#I think the guys I’m into and I typically diverge in the sense that neither of us wants a relationship but they just wanna fuck me

[stuckinapril]

I genuinely love not having a crush like I’m not over here feeling physically sick over some mid guy being dry to me I’m literally chilling

#Spring semester of last year was so bad bc I was unironically into 3 guys at once and they were all #Being dry and cryptic to me #And then before that in 2022 I had my horrid situationship #I had a mini obsession arc in dec 2023 over someone but now there hasn’t been anyone since #And my palette is so cleansed #When a girl is like I miss having a crush I’m like you’re literally a masochist #There was very briefly a girl I thought I had a crush on when I realized I’m bicurious but #I haven’t put effort into talking to her bc the idea of pursuing anyone makes me wanna claw my eyes out #I’m pretty sure I ghosted her by like just not responding to her last messsge actually #Not on purpose but more so bc I realized I was feeling the same anxiety I felt whenever I had a crush so I was like #Yeah I’m dropping this for now #I’m also always the most present for my friends when I don’t have a crush so idk #Like I don’t wanna be consumed by anyone I just wanna chill #The solution to not having normal attraction to people is just to not be attracted to anyone at all #I fr cracked it #I always just crave the butterflies out of it and never an actual relationship anyway #But they’re so not worth it #Which is why I always get bored of guys who’re forthright like oh ok you actually WANT something…. U don’t wanna just have fun #Not for me #I think the guys I’m into and I typically diverge in the sense that neither of us wants a relationship but they just wanna fuck me #And I more so just want the butterflies experience / to playact couple for like a couple months but nothing too serious #Which is why it never works #Like it’s not that it doesn’t work bc either of us wants a relationship it’s more that what we want out of the situationship is different #So lame #Ok this was a lot but I literally came to this epiphany while writing these tags

[sambvcks]

redefined, b.b. x reader

summary: just because those ten words no longer wreak havoc on his mind does not mean they are gone. just redefined.

warnings: mentions of food, blood, gunshot wound

word count: 3.7k....whoops

author’s note: first standalone! i’m also itching to work on a sam story next. the last episode still lives in my mind rent free and this is a reworking of that which diverges from civil war and we get one big happy avenging family that aren’t dead :)

[ read on ao3 | masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

Longing

An Avenger.

The concept was still so foreign to Bucky, despite dozens of successful missions under his belt and a permanent residence in the tower. Still, every morning he sprung up in bed expecting to still be in some run-down apartment halfway across the world, on the run.

Instead, he would awake on a plush mattress that offered little back support. He would shuck on the first shirt his bleary eyes could see and pad into the hallway, the smell of fresh coffee overtaking his superhuman sense of smell. You would be perched at the kitchen counter, pouring over mission files stained with coffee rings that Tony would later complain about.

Steve and Sam would have already come through on their way to their morning run, the coffee pot running dangerously low. You’d already placed his favorite mug nearby, two packets of sugar emptied into the bottom. A routine.

Bucky didn’t think he’d ever have a routine again.

His hand would press against your shoulder in a familiar greeting as he passed, you’d grin up at him with sleepy eyes and a lazy smile before returning to your work. Your cereal sat forgotten beside you, the overly sweetened kid’s choice growing soggy.

It was a silent and comfortable interaction. Neither worked to fill the quiet or felt the need to. Even with Steve, there was always talking and planning and ‘what about this’. With you, it was so natural to just exist how he was in that moment. No excuses, no whispered apologies.

He pushed his back against the sink as he sipped at his coffee, eyes immediately settling on your distracted figure. Your pajamas were wrinkled, mouth formed into a perfect concentrated from as you hunched uncomfortably, hand scribbling furiously. He swallowed and decided you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, especially with your coffee breath and fingernails chewed to nubs.

He wanted so desperately to move across the kitchen and press himself perfectly against you, to push aside your paperwork and demand your sole attention. His hand clenched into a fist as he longed to feel your soft, round cheeks in his hands, how warm you would feel against the cool metal of his left and how you’d nuzzle closer still.

He hadn’t heard the dragging footsteps of Steve and Sam returning from their run and didn’t even notice them until they were settled at the doorway, watching him watch you.

“Morning.” Steve grinned, all knowing. Bucky cleared his throat and refocused on his mug.

“Morning.” Bucky replied with a look that said ‘don’t say anything’.

Rusted

Bucky learned that if you weren’t cooped up in your room or camped out on the kitchen island, you were tucked away in Tony’s garage. On slow days where it seemed everyone was off in their own little world, Bucky would know to find you under the hood of one of Tony’s vintage cars, each kept in pristine condition, but you claimed that ‘there’s always something to work on’.

Bucky was never a car guy. His family was too poor to even think of ever owning his own car. He didn’t even have his own license and technically couldn’t legally ride his bike either. He found out quickly that being an Avenger meant the term legal could be bent a bit. So, he wasn’t a car guy. But the sight of you with streaks of grease across your face and your raggedy workshop clothes would have him buying one just to see you work on it.

You were notoriously protective of your little hideaway, the music loud and the sound of metal ringing as you fixed and fiddled with every little thing. Steve nearly got a wrench to the face when he tried to distract you from Tony’s antique Chevy.

Bucky was different, though. He was always different.

He would sit himself on a tall stool positioned next to one of Tony’s many rolling tool chests. You’d call out a tool and he’d rifle through the collection until he found what he thought was the right one and only slightly tease him when he’d emerge with the wrong one. Typically, you’d spend these afternoons in silence, the thumping of the heavy base of whatever crazy metal album you picked the only soundtrack to your work.

Sometimes, though, you’d play gentle rock music. Bucky would ask questions on what you were doing, how you learned to do all of this, why you did it when Tony worked on these cars enough for the both of you.

You’d fish your rag from your pocket, concentrating on scrubbing the grease from under your fingernails as you answered.

“I like using my hands. I like fixing things. For every car that Tony has in this garage, there are hundreds just like it sitting in junkyards gathering cobwebs and rust.” You looked up at him from under eyelashes and Bucky knew you were speaking about much more than just hunks of metal. “They’re worthy of love and care.”

You were talking about him, too.

Seventeen

Bucky didn’t think this superhero business would have so many parties. There seemed to be a celebration for everything. Galas, fundraisers, full on parades whenever Tony happened to wake up in a good mood.

At least this one is a holiday, he thought to himself as he nursed his third beer of the hour. Not that it did anything other than keep his hands occupied.

The year was coming to a close, and the top floor of the Avengers Tower was decked in golden confetti and banners to ensure no one forgot. The music was obnoxiously loud, and the lyrics made little sense, but everyone seemed to be having a good time mingling and even venturing to the dance floor.

No matter how many times Sam tried to drag him in with an invisible rope, Bucky was not going to dance. Well. Maybe he would if you asked.

The party had been in full swing for hours now, with only ten minutes until the ball a few blocks up finally dropped and he could sneak away to his room without a teasing ‘bedtime already, old timer?’ from Nat.

Still, the party raged on and he eyed the glass door to the balcony. He downed the last of his beer, brushing past enthusiastic partygoers with his shoulders hunched forward in some attempt to minimize the space he took up in the room that only seemed to be getting smaller. He caught Steve’s eye on the way out and plastered on a smile in response to his disappointed look.

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding as soon as the glass door slid closed behind him. His eyes closed as he leaned back against it, the chill of the December New York air blew his hair in every direction.

“Fancy meeting you here.” You were sat in the far corner, so well hidden he hadn’t even noticed you, though he had been on the lookout for you all night. “Tired of the festivities?”

“And Tony’s music.” He grumbled as he fell into the seat beside you.

“Been waiting for you for the past thirty minutes. Honestly, you made it a lot longer than I could’ve in there.”

You were waiting for him. You wanted him to be there, with you, tucked away from everyone else’s prying eyes. He wanted that, too. Sometimes he wanted it so much it scared him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, doll. It’s not polite for a gentleman to make a girl wait.”

“Hmm, I think I’ll find it in myself to forgive you.” Your shoulder pressed against his, eyes focused on the smattering of buildings surrounding you. Identical parties were happening in each of them, you were sure. “Can you believe another year is gone?”

“I can’t believe I’m about to make it to 2017 and my back hasn’t given out yet.”

You laughed, loud and unabashedly in a way only Bucky could make you laugh. Head thrown back and eyes glittering from the city lights, Bucky wanted to spend every new year you would allow him to by your side, trying his best to make you laugh again.

“Well,” You stood to peer over the glass railing, Bucky close behind you. You could hear the drunken cries inside as the countdown begun. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.” Bucky offered his hand to you. You took it easily.

5, 4, 3…

He wanted nothing more than to pull you close, to finally press a kiss on the lips that had thrown teasing remarks at him during missions. To once and for all end this little dance you both loved so much. But you looked so perfect.

Bucky wasn’t ready to ruin that perfection with everything wrong with him quite yet.

“Happy 2017, Bucky.” You whispered as the fireworks started, but Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes from you.

“Happy 2017, doll.”

Daybreak

The mission had been long and grueling. The week-long stakeout turned into two and quickly turned into a month away. You can’t remember the last time you’d had a good night of sleep that wasn’t interrupted with Bucky’s hand on your shoulder, telling you it was your turn to keep watch.

It wasn’t a horrible mission, more of an exercise in patience and restraint than anything. Bucky’s stories kept you entertained enough, and he was a good partner. Which is why you were paired together more often than not.

Still, it was nice to finally collapse into your familiar bed, not even bothering to kick of shoes or take a much-needed shower. Your sleeping schedule was all out of whack and you tossed and turned, despite the exhaustion seeping through your bones.

After fifteen minutes, you finally huffed a sigh of defeat and stumbled back to your feet. You showered, which was a few good days overdue, and dressed in your largest, most comfortable pajamas.

You weren’t surprised to see Bucky up as well, sitting at the dining table with a mug of fresh coffee.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His foot kicked out the seat beside him as an invitation.

“Sleeps overrated, anyways.” You shrugged, slumping into the seat and pressing your face into the cool glass of the table.

“Sleep is good for you.” He insisted, reaching forward to brush aside the hair that had curtained over your face. “You deserve a good night’s rest.”

“So do you, Buck.”

He stayed silent for a while, just sipping at his coffee and stealing glances at you, face trained out the floor to ceiling windows. He really didn’t know what he deserved, anymore. Sure, he had made some semblance of peace with what the Winter Soldier had done with his body. He was better, that was certain.

Worthy of you and all your unwavering sweetness? He wasn’t so sure.

You idly chatted about nothing for hours, filling comfortable silence with talks of the mission and the food poisoning he had given you when he tried to make dinner two weeks in. You sat side by side until day broke the next morning, eyes squinting at the sun peeking over skyscrapers and finally finding the need to fall shut in rest.

“I guess I should say ‘good morning’ instead of ‘good night’.” You were the first to stand, shuffling towards the hallway that led to your bedroom.

“Good morning.” He answered as you padded away, deciding he would be just fine losing sleep every night if it meant he could watch the sunrise by your side.

Furnace

“Doesn’t Tony make enough money to keep this place at least habitable?” You grumbled as you fell into the couch beside Bucky.

“I’m fine.”

Bucky sat in his patent jeans and t-shirt, unphased by the temperature that practically had your teeth chattering. You were bundled in multiple layers, including one of the many sweatshirts he’d wear jogging on cold mornings and blankets you had stolen off his bed. Your glare from under your cocoon of warmth rivaled even his.

“I’m not a muscle-y super soldier-”

“You think I’m muscle-y?”

“-that runs so hot you’re basically a personal furnace.”

“Oh, so now I’m hot.”

“I would strangle you to death right now, but I’m about to lose my fingers to hypothermia.” You burrowed further into your smattering of blankets with a violent chill running down your spine. Bucky simply rolled his eyes and marked the spot in the book he had been reading before you stormed in.

“C’mere.”

He balled up a fistful of one of your blankets, tugging you even closer to him. You opened your arms to allow for direct contact, sighing contently as your face pressed into his shoulder and legs tangled with his. You sighed contently as you welcomed his warmth, shimmying as close as you could get.

“Better?”

“The best.”

Nine

“Do you ever think what your life would be like? If you’d gotten to go home?”

Even a year ago, this question would have turned Bucky into a brooding mess. He would have delved into every little moment he had missed, every plan that had been turned upside down when he fell from that train all those years ago. But he was better now, more contemplative. He wouldn’t drown in the idea of what could have been because he knows what it’s like to be on the other side.

“I like to think I would’ve gone to college.”

“Really?”

“You calling me dumb, doll?”

“No! You’re the smartest person I know. I’m just picturing you at college. Carrying textbooks and wooing all the dames.” You fell into him at the thought, a fake swoon overtaking your face.

“I’d be too busy studying for dames.”

“Studying what?”

“I always liked math. Maybe engineering or something. Wanted to be a teacher before the draft.” He shrugged like the information was no big deal, but to you it was everything.

“Professor Barnes. Kind of sexy.”

“Oh, shut up.” But his words held no malice. Instead, he was grinning that cheeky grin that pulled his cheeks into perfect rosy apples and his eyes crinkled in joy. “I wanted to have ten kids.”

“Ten?!”

“So we’d be a dozen. My own little army of mini-Buckys to take over the world. Couple sets of twins, maybe. Definitely as many girls as I could manage.”

Of course Bucky would be a girl-dad. Playing dress-up for fake tea parties and scaring off boys when they’d come ‘round for first dates. You could imagine how he’d learn how to take care of their hair and plait intricate braids when they asked. He would make breakfast for the whole bunch, kiss his wife goodbye before escorting them to the bus stop and taking off for a day of teaching classes. Bucky would be an amazing father.

An amazing husband, too.

“I think ten may be pushing it, Barnes.”

Bucky pictured it, too. A little more modern than maybe the image you conjured up. Teaching was replaced with small missions. The gaggle of kids were smaller, and he wouldn’t have to kiss his wife goodbye. You’d be in the car next to him, headed to the tower for your morning briefings together.

“I’ll settle for nine.”

Benign

If you were to ask any New Yorker what they think the Avengers do on Friday afternoons, they would probably say something like ‘kicking ass!’. None would get even close to what your actual routine looked like.

None would imagine The Winter Soldier lounging in a bathrobe, hair knotted into a bun at the top of his head as his fellow world-saving Avenger spread some green goop over his face. Chinese takeout boxes littered the living room coffee table, his feet were bubbling in warm foot spa.

“To keep your youthful complexion!” You had promised him. He didn’t comment on the obvious sound of your phone’s camera clicking.

He knew he must have looked completely ridiculous. But as you sunk into the couch next to him with identical spa treatments covering you, he couldn’t find it in himself to really care.

He never thought in a million years that he would have the chance of boring, completely benign afternoons. He thought he would be sidelined to violent missions for the rest of his life, to being thawed out like a microwave meal every time he was deemed useful. Sure, he felt a bit ridiculous when you reached over to adjust the slices of cucumber placed over his eyelids, but he also felt so relaxed.

As you settled even closer to him, head tilting to rest on his shoulder, he would happily take the teasing remarks from Sam when you showed him the pictures.

Homecoming

Peter wasn’t crazy about the idea of getting ready for his senior year homecoming dance at the tower. But Aunt May was upstate on vacation with Happy and he still didn’t know how to tie a tie.

“Oh, you look so handsome, Peter!” You gushed as your fingers worked on his tie. Bucky stood to the side, holding MJ’s corsage in a delicate plastic container. Peter had been careful to find the perfect color, with a little guidance from you. The white dahlias matched perfectly with Peter’s light green tie.

“Thanks, Ms. (Y/L/N).”

Peter, ever the polite kid.

“Be safe, kid. Have her home at a reasonable time and no wandering hands.” Bucky handed over the corsage with a supportive slap to Peter’s shoulder. He was quick to promise that he would follow all the rules before making a dash to the door, just as you were about to ask for pictures.

“Don’t wait up!” He called as the elevator dinged behind him.

“They grow up so fast.” You sniffled. “I didn’t even go to my homecoming dances.”

“Why not?”

“Nobody ever asked me.” You shrugged, collecting the other ties Peter had picked from and hanging them carefully over your arm. Tony didn’t have to know that Peter was taking one of his priceless Versace neckties to a homecoming dance.

“To be fair, I would’ve been scared shitless to ask you to a dance.” Bucky followed close behind. “And I fought a war.”

“That’s sweet, Buck.” You brushed him off as you retreated into Tony’s closet.

“No, really.” His hand caught your elbow. “I would’ve been the luckiest guy in town if I had you on my arm.”

You fell asleep that night imagining you and Bucky twirling around a dance hall without a care in the world.

One

Steve’s hand was firm against your shoulder, his tactical glove soaked and dripping with your blood. Your eyes were unfocused, head lulling every so often when the fight to keep it steady just seemed too difficult. Sam was at your other side, cracking jokes to try to keep your attention on him and not of the literal bullet lodged in your shoulder.

You were escorted from the jet in a flurry, doctor’s hands replacing Steve’s. You barely winced when you were administered painkillers and the ache begun to subside. Before you could blink, you were lifted onto a gurney in the medical bay and the clink of the bullet that had been dug from your flesh rang through the room as it clattered into a metal dish.

Bucky ran in just as the doctor finished maneuvering a long roll of gaze around your shoulder, scheduling a time for you to return to have it cleaned and reapplied again.

“What happened?” He brushed past the doctor without a second glance, eyes trained on your figure pressed against the sterile hospital bed. “Steve said-”

“It’s nothing. Steve likes to be dramatic.”

“-that you were shot!”

“Oh, well. Yeah, that happened.” You moved to sit up, your arm immediately giving out under the weight. Bucky moved even closer to help you, hand careful on your back like you were made of glass. “But just the one time.”

“As far as I’m concerned, one is too many.” He watched the gauze turn darker against your skin; your eyes screwed shut in pain as your knuckles turned white against the sheets. “And you’re never going on a mission without me again.”

Freight Car

“You’re free.”

He remembers those worlds so clearly, it’s like him and Ayo are still sat next to that crackling fire in Wakanda. He thought that had been it. He would never again worry about those ten phrases that erased Bucky Barnes and allowed a machine to emerge from his memory.

As he stole glances of you from the corner of his eye, shadowed by his unruly hair, he knew those words still very much existed in his mind.

They weren’t a means to an end, anymore. He didn’t have to grit his teeth and clench his fists to fight them off. They were new, now. He saw each of those words in you and realized just how important they are now they they’ve found a new meaning.

His love for you came easy.

One second, he was looking at his friend. She was looking back at him and he felt safe.

Your fingers brushed over his shoulder, where flesh turned to metal, and you looked away as though you hadn’t just made him fall in love with you with a single touch.

It took three years for Bucky to make a move. Another party, another escape plan to the balcony where you were waiting for him, like always. The last time you had found yourselves in that position, he had been too unsure. Too wary of what it would mean and if it was too soon.

Now, he didn’t care. He just wanted you and to be selfish and not think about consequences when he leaned forward and finally pressed his lips to yours.

You pulled back, but not far.

Something clicked.

Your love for him hit you like a freight car. Swooping in from nowhere but really, you should have felt the rattling of the tracks beneath your feet. You should have seen all the signs that you loved him and he loved you back. In stolen glances and easy afternoons, in hard missions and bloodshed. He was there, and he looked at you like that. Like everything his body had done was to finally make it to you in this moment.

He waited, patient. He had waited this long, what was another few seconds as the realization washed over your features?

“Oh.” Was your clever whisper.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s hands cradled your face, “Took you long enough.”

taglist: @bibliophilewednesday @teti-menchon0604​ @thiswasnevermylifefromtony​ @spid3rgwen​ @beautyandthebleh​ @victoriabaker112213​ @orthellqs @phasma-trash​

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/you #bucky barnes/reader #marvel imagine #tfatws imagine #sab writes

[popwasabi]

Lockdown Lookback: Catching up on the past months’ Pop Culture

Aaaaannnd we’re back!

It’s amazing what a little pandemic can do to shake you out of your creative cobwebs but if we’re all going to die, I want to make sure all my pop cultural hot takes are up to date at least.

Many of us are already on lockdown and many major movies including “007,” “Black Widow” and ummm I guess “Mulan” are all getting pushed to the backburner as no one is leaving their God damn homes unless they’re told to!

(Didn’t realize the thing I wish I had more of in the apocalypse would be sweatpants...)

But there’s still plenty to talk about from the previous months and other hot topics I have been meaning to write about but just hadn’t found the time or energy for. Life has been hard I think for just about all of us these days thanks in no small part to this pandemic. For me personally, I’ve had two different vacations canceled because of the virus and currently working understaffed at my job which is considered essential. Not to mention my therapist is on call only at this time and both my martial arts schools have been suspended, so I can neither talk nor punch my feelings out of my system.

So, I might be just a LITTLE on edge at the moment.

(My internal monologue for most of these past few weeks, more broadly years...)

Anyways, I digress, you come here because you like to read my highly unprofessional takes on pop culture and genuinely to those who have cheered me on from the beginning thanks, you guys are my prime motivators. But anyways let’s talk about all the shit I was supposed to write about these last two and a half months.

 “Birds of Prey” was a hot, but needed, mess

Earlier last month I got to see the sort of sequel to the much-maligned “Suicide Squad” in “Birds of Prey and the…waaaay too long of a title for me write here.” I had cautious optimism for it because it looked strange and off the beaten path of most comic book movies and seemed to promise at the very least a fun time at the theater but it’s still also a DCEU movie so the floor was pretty low on its possible quality as well.

In the end, the movie is kind of bit of everything; the best and worst parts of the DCEU. 

In terms of the good, it’s definitely outside the box, a sort of fem Deadpool first person story as told frenetically by Harley herself. Margot Robbie is, of course, still quite great at this role and you can tell she’s having a blast as this character. The humor is mostly good and visually the bright colors and cinematography pops on each screen and on that front there isn’t much to complain about.

But as a DCEU movie it does suffer from some narrative imbalance partially due to it’s psycho storyteller but mostly, and more than likely, due to corporate editing that probably axed an entire dance number that I was honestly looking forward to from the trailers.

(Seriously, I actually wanted to see the full unedited version of whatever hell this ended up being.)

It’s definitely in the “could’ve been better” camp of comic book movies but you know what? I’m still glad it exists. You know why? Because comic book movies dominate our blockbuster culture right now and if the genre wants to survive, at least artistically, it needs some outside the box films like this. I HATED “Joker” but I appreciate that it opened the door for stranger, more unique takes on a genre that is getting increasingly more stale. This movie falls into that unique category too.

(Also, to all the faux-intellectuals and alt-right nerds making a culture war out of “Sonic” vs “Birds of Prey” *kindly* reevaluate your lives please...)

We’re at the point now where comic book movies should be getting weirder, not more formulaic, and that means swinging for the fences even if a couple don’t quite make it out of the ballpark. If it takes a few not so stellar takes on the genre for Hollywood to greenlight a truly fantastic one I’m all for it.

In any case “Birds of Prey” doesn’t quite end nor continue the DCEU’s recent hot streak but it is enjoyable enough to where I would be more than open to a sequel. It’s worth a watch.

 The Mandalorian and The Witcher: Two shows about violent mercenaries and fatherhood

Both these shows are old news at this point, but I did want to talk a little about both for a bit if you would have me.

First, “The Mandalorian” which was Disney+’s flagship production to begin its streaming chapter late last year is definitely a more than welcome addition to the galaxy far, far away. It’s pretty easy to feel fairly jaded about Star Wars these days given how flat the new trilogy ended but for what it’s worth “The Mandalorian” was a good mix of nostalgia bait and something new and interesting for fans to chew on. Its production value is obviously top-notch, no doubt because of all the Disney money pumped into it, it’s well-acted and thrilling and fun from start to finish. It plays heavily on the genres that influenced the series, primarily westerns and old samurai flicks, and fans of those will certainly enjoy the homages to them all.

The series was something of a coming out party for Deborah Chow who directed two of the season 1’s best episodes. Her steady hand, eye for details and tributes to Asian cinema throughout really gave the series an extra kick at times and showed how Star Wars can evolve still. Chow is set to helm the upcoming “Kenobi” series and one can only hope that she *really* leans into the samurai genre for that show.

(Hopefully, there are some “Yojimbo” vibes in there somewhere...)

The Mandalorian’s best and worst parts though are its semi episodic nature making each episode easy to digest as a one-off but also lacking some narrative tension between each. It plays kind of like a Saturday Morning cartoon to both its benefit and detriment with bite-size easy to digest plots and dialogue for the viewers but not offering a ton of depth beyond that.

The Mandalorian himself is also kind of a Gary Stu. His armor is basically impenetrable and far and away the best killer onscreen typically, making more than a few action scenes lack real stakes and tension. Baby Yoda certainly helps at times to make him more vulnerable and puts him in precarious positions plenty of times but outside a few moments (mainly episode 2 and to a lesser extend the final episode) he’s just a little too overpowered to be a more interesting character.

But this show and frankly the Star Wars series as a whole is meant for kids, no matter what the neckbeards try to tell you (violence =/= adult), and that’s not necessarily a bad thing either. Plenty of kids productions can be both great and even sophisticated and while I wouldn’t say “The Mandalorian” is either of those it’s a good and fun kids show for the fans.

(And yes I’m aware that the books, some comics, and games have touched on more adult stuff, you weirdos. But how would you describe the overall tone and presumptive audience of the movies and TV series as a whole, guys??)

As far as “The Witcher” goes it also has a bit of an episodic style to it as well with an overarching, albeit, convoluted story that runs parallel to it. The first 3-4ish episodes can be classified as a quasi “Game of Thrones” clone leaning perhaps a little too heavily into the tropes of that series. Once the series finally starts leaning into its real identity, a dry-witted hack and slash fantasy, the series is much more consistent both tonally and narratively.

Henry Cavil is solid as Geralt of Rivia and the supporting cast of Joey Batey as Jaskier, Freya Allen as Ciri and even more so Anya Chalotra as Yennefer are all great in their respective roles delivering some great moments throughout the season.

(And lest you forget this earworm...)

“The Witcher’s” early season struggles keep it from being as tonally or narratively consistent as “The Mandalorian” but where the monster slayer beats the bounty hunter is that it has overall more compelling drama and has more to say, leaning much more heavily into the thematic greys of the plot. There are tons of problems with “The Witcher” on a story-telling level but you can definitely say it cares more about adding some depth in between the more pulpy aspects of the story which is something you can’t say as much for in “The Mandalorian.”

Of course, I’m partially overselling “The Witcher” a bit here, it’s not anywhere near “Game of Thrones” best (yet at least), and on the flipside one could argue that “The Mandalorian’s” more subtle sense of story-telling does its themes better. But when it comes down to these two shows you get somewhat similar story-telling ideas, mostly involving both characters and their smaller counterparts, in two very different genres with equally diverging conclusions to their respective seasons. 

(🎵 Toss an “Oof” to your Witcher...🎵)

All in all, they’re both good and worth a watch and I think they deserve a chance to evolve and hopefully showcase more of what they have to offer moving forward.

“Parasite” wins Best Picture! Many people have some hot takes, including the president...

Last month one of my favorite films of 2019 “Parasite” won Best Picture at the Oscars. It’s a movie that is becoming increasingly relevant as elites and celebrities alike are getting front of the line testing despite being asymptomatic in the middle of pandemic and think they can assuage our concerns and dread by poorly singing “Imagine” together within the comfort of their McMansions.

It’s about as a good time as any to revisit this movie, I mean where else are you going to go during this timeline, and at a later date I’ll write something more extensive about it eventually (hopefully) but first here’s a helpful video on one particular thing that came out after director Bong Joon Ho took home the night’s top honors:

 “Cats” is still a fever dream of madness

Back in late December, I watched “Cats” for science, as I had AMC A-List and a friend crazy enough to join me. I figured it would be bonkers and unlike anything I had seen before in the worst way but even then, I don’t think I was truly prepared for what I ended up seeing that fateful night.

I remember quite vividly going to the bar inside the theater and ordering a stiff drink beforehand to numb the pain and the bartender asking “So what are y’all watching tonight?” and beginning to laugh manically like an insane asylum patient at the innocuousness of the question. Walking into the theater was like that feeling you get before getting on a particularly scary-looking rollercoaster at Six Flags but instead of the pre-ride jitters eventually subsiding to the eventual fun and joy of the ride, only a deep sense of existential dread built up and sustained itself through what felt like six hours of the most baffling thing put to screen in front of my eyes ever.

(The music that played in my head as I exited the theater...)

Have any of you watched the Stanley Kubrick movie “Eyes Wide Shut” before? You know the scene when Tom Cruise is walking around in his mask observing the strange occult sex orgy going on around him at the mansion? That’s kind of what “Cats” felt like except way more terrifying, somehow MORE sexual, and definitely crazier.

(Is...this some type of...intepretative dance to summon an eldritch horror??)

There’s a voyeuristic terror that comes from sitting in that theater room as you watch bipedal humanoid looking felines dance to confusing songs about “Jelicle” cats (whatever the fuck that means) and all other manner of things that should NOT take human form throughout it’s near-endless runtime. A lot was made about Rebel Wilson and the disgusting roach people she consumes but NO ONE warned me about the frankly HORRIFYING mice children in the same scene!

(I am not perusing the internet to find that image again for y’all. I have enough nightmares each night...)

The saddest thing about the whole movie is everyone, save for Ian Mckellen who seemed to be acting as if a gun was pointing at him offscreen and Judi Dench who looked 100 percent like a geriatric in her digi fur, was giving the movie their fullest effort in what can only be described as a Titanic-sized level of hubris by all parties involved. This movie really needed a “Chaostician” involved in evaluating the production for studio heads and shareholders because there were definitely NOT enough people on this project wondering whether or not this film SHOULD exist...

(Dr. Ian Malcolm coming to Universal Pictures to access the film.)

What has “Cats” wrought upon this world? The universe has been clearly out of balance since this movie came out and while I’m not saying it’s director Tom Hooper’s fault, I’m not saying it isn’t either.

“Cats” is one of those things, much like The Matrix that cannot be simply described but must be seen to believe. It’s one of the worst things I have ever seen onscreen but with the right group of people and a few stiff drinks it’s certainly an experience you won’t forget. Consider it for your next Google Hangout during this apocalypse.

  Anyways, that about wraps up my thoughts on the last few months. Going to try to be more consistent going forward especially given how much more time I have now to write, for better and worse. But more importantly, just want to say stay safe y’all. It’s going to be a process to get through this and while things are more likely to get worse before they get better there will be a day when this all ends and some normalcy may yet return to our life but in order for us to get there we need to remain vigilant. 

So stay at home, wash your hands, and if you want to watch movies just order it online for now and we’ll just wait until aaaallll this blows over…hopefully.

Don’t panic...

#Coronavirus #covid-19 #Covid #Shaun of the Dead #Birds of Prey #Margot Robbie #sonic #dcu #dceu #DC comics #Comic books #comics #comic book movies #Marvel MCU #mcu films #MCU #witcher #the witcher #the mandalorian #henry cavill #Cats #cats mov #Cats film #pop culture #movie #film #review #jurassic park #Parasite #bong joon ho

[kvhottie]

“By the end of their 3rd year, they had lost count of everything. They’d kiss too often—stolen in between classes and even in dusty closets—and had gone much, much further than just exchanging breaths and clothing."

Snapshots of Kageyama and Hinata’s deepening relationship, and the many things they’ve shared and borrowed.

Rating: Teen |Pairing: KageHina |Tags: Slightly Canon Divergent, Spoilers for Chapter 378, Fluff and Humor

[Ao3]

________________ 

It was a freezing cold day in the middle of winter during their first year. The uncovered tips of their hands, nose, and ears turned a painful and throbbing red as they bared the icy breeze on their way home. Hinata buried his face in the teal scarf around his neck, the light-yellow hoodie under his uniform barely providing enough warmth. His brittle fingers held on to his creaking bike beside him. Yet, even while he was shivering himself, he poked fun at the trembling Kageyama next to him who was bitterly suffering because he had forgotten his scarf at home. 

“You can walk closer to me for warmth,” Hinata snickered.

Kageyama shook his head, hugging his arms closer to his chest, “I’m not cold.”

“Yeah right, I’m sure even your snot is frozen.”

“And I’m sure your hands will be stuck to your handlebars,” Kageyama said with a darted glare at Hinata.

“Shut it, only one hand is stuck.” Hinata unraveled one side of his scarf from around his neck and offered it to Kageyama. “I’ll share it with you until the station. And don’t be stubborn—we can’t have you getting sick.”

Kageyama gave a short grunt but inched closer, wrapping the end of the scarf around his neck. There was a visible sense of slight relief showing on his face, which he did a very poor job at hiding, and he muttered a low ‘thanks’. Hinata gave him a smug but satisfied grin and they continued quietly walking to the station.

Their steps in time with each other, there was something reassuring in the warmth trapped between them.

________________ 

During the spring of their 2nd year, clothing was never offered but often borrowed—mainly by Hinata, who would leave his head at home if it wasn’t attached to his neck. This time around he had forgotten his gym uniform and had to drag his feet to ask Kageyama for his extra pair...yet again.

“I should start charging you,” complained Kageyama as he shoved his folded gym jersey and pants into Hinata’s hands. He slammed his locker shut. “You should just get an extra pair of your own.”

“You know I’d probably also forget that at home. I make sure to wash it when I give it back right? So don’t be so sulky,” Hinata nudged Kageyama with his elbow as he tried to appease him with his usual toothy, bright smile.

Kageyama covered Hinata’s face with one hand and squeezed a bit. “You think just because you flash me that smile, I’ll happily do what you say.”

“Ow. It works half the time, right? Just admit you’ve grown weak to it.”

Kageyama released Hinata’s face with a sigh and ruffled his already messy orange hair, “Whatever. Go have fun looking like a toddler dressed in adult’s clothes.”

“Hey!”

Kageyama was right…every time Hinata wore his spare uniform, he looked like the clothes were swallowing him. He had to roll up the sleeves of the jacket and the legs of the pants to account for the extra inches of fabric and though he mostly looked ridiculous, Kageyama sometimes caught himself thinking he also looked cute.   

Well, honestly, it had become more often than just ‘sometimes’. Those mushy thoughts about that rambunctious ball of energy had begun occupying whatever was left of his brain when volleyball wasn’t on his mind. And he didn’t hate it—okay, he also didn’t like it because who actually enjoys a heavy heart or unnecessary doses of adrenaline just because someone is standing close to you—but none of this was all that bad.

These unrequited feelings had yet to cause any pain. It helped that the feelings were still fresh and uncomplicated. Kageyama enjoyed the scent of Hinata’s detergent on the clothes he returned, the feel of Hinata’s longer hair on his fingers, and that stupid smile he always used to try to get Kageyama to do what he wanted. But above all, Kageyama loved that Hinata always picked volleyball, and in turn him, before anything else. He was always by Kageyama’s side during lunch, during practice, after school, and they’d even started meeting here and there during weekends. Kageyama was perfectly content…at first.  

But as summer lolled closer, his feelings also warmed up and morphed.

The ever-friendly Hinata was growing in popularity. The girls around them would whisper “Hinata-senpai” this and “Hinata-kun” that. The guys around him wanted to be his friend and steal him for a game of basketball during lunch. Hinata was oblivious to all of this, and still preferred to spend his lunch inside the classroom or practicing with Kageyama, but the few times Hinata agreed to the requests of these newcomers Kageyama could feel his stomach turn.

There was distance growing between them. As they thought about their future, Kageyama slowly planted roots of legacy and reputation in Japan and shot up like a tree with recognition. Hinata looked at the expanse of the sky, like he always did, and aimed his sights very far from Kageyama’s side: Brazil. At first Kageyama didn’t think too hard about it. How typical of Hinata to take the scenic but hard mountain trail to his goal. Yeah, so what if he was going to go to Brazil to play beach volleyball. He’d return soon, anyway.

Right?

Because it felt wrong if they were apart for too long.

This was all jealousy, of course. He wasn’t that stupid—by this point he had a decent, though still lacking, grasp on his own emotions. He knew adoration, he knew anger, and now he very clearly knew jealousy. The thought of Hinata being by someone else’s side, receiving other people’s serves, made his eye twitch, hands ball up, and throat go dry. It pricked his heart with a wave of hopelessness that wouldn’t be alleviated until Hinata was back at his side.

And it never went away.

No matter how much Kageyama shut his eyes and wished it away, these feelings persisted, slowly simmering in his chest. Until they boiled over…

It was a humid, rainy day late in the summer. Kageyama and Hinata had gotten soaked on their way to Hinata’s house for a last-minute study session (neither of them had done their summer homework, unsurprisingly). No one was home so the two boys waddled to the closet near the first-floor bathroom, a trail of water behind them. Hinata gave Kageyama a towel, took one for himself, and led them to his room as they pat themselves down. Hinata was the first to pull off his uniform shirt, the wet fabric sticking to his skin as he brought it over his head. Kageyama caught himself staring too hard at his lean frame and pristine back and quickly whipped his head away as he took off his own shirt.

“You can borrow some of my clothes for now, though they’ll all fit you small,” Hinata said as he tossed Kageyama some grey joggers and a red t-shirt.

Kageyama shuffled into each, sighing when the shirt only went as low as his belly button and the joggers were too high on his legs. “I look ridiculous.”

Hinata bit back a laugh and muffled between involuntary snickers, “What? No, not at all. The crop top really suits your abs.”

“Forget this.” Kageyama furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed the hem of the shirt to start taking it off.

“Eh! No, fun. Keep it on!” Hinata yelled as he grabbed at Kageyama’s arms with enough force that they fumbled backwards to the floor. Hinata scurried around and mounted Kageyama’s hips, pinning his arms down. “My win. The shirt stays on.”

For a moment, all Kageyama could think about was the difference in temperature between the cool hardwood floor against his back and the spot where his hips met Hinata’s inner thighs. But before his mind could even process their current predicament, Hinata leaned down until his face was way, way too close to Kageyama’s.

“Do you ever think about kissing me?” Hinata murmured, staring down into Kageyama’s eyes without an ounce of hesitation. Kageyama was usually the one looking down at him, so if his heart weren’t trying to jump out of his mouth at the moment, he might have even found this angle refreshing.

“Wh-Why would I think about that?” Kageyama huffed, eyes flittering between looking at the low table beside them and Hinata’s earnest face.

“I do.” Hinata’s eyes landed on Kageyama’s lips. “It only started recently, but I think about it all the time. I know it’s weird, but I just—”

“It’s not weird,” Kageyama said as he met Hinata’s eyes once more, this time with determination of his own. “At least…not to me.”

Hinata’s face melted into a smile that was both a bit playful and also relieved. “Then, can I kiss you?” Hinata said as he let go of Kageyama’s arms to lower himself onto his elbows at either side of Kageyama’s head.

Kageyama brought his right hand to Hinata’s face, index finger slowly running against his cheek and then to his ear. “Yeah,” he managed to say despite his pounding heart and headrush.

Hinata dipped his head further, his full body pressed against Kageyama’s. Softly, their lips met in a curious peck. Hinata smiled against Kageyama’s lips, withdrawing for a moment to look at the flushed expression Kageyama was sure he was sporting, and then pressed their lips together again. This time their mouths gently glided against each other and though Kageyama was a bit stiff and unsure of what to do, he eased into Hinata’s lead.

Kageyama disliked how the floor restricted his head movement so he pushed himself up with his left arm, right arm snaking around Hinata’s lower back to keep him on his lap as he sat up. Hinata laughed—maybe at Kageyama’s eagerness or maybe at the general clumsiness of this all—and wrapped his arms around Kageyama’s neck, hips flushed against Kageyama’s.

“I like this better,” Hinata whispered into Kageyama’s ear.

A shiver ran up Kageyama’s spine and he let out a shaky, strained breath. His left hand hesitantly rested across his right hand on the small of Hinata’s back, itching to dip fingers below the hem of his shirt. “We’re never getting our homework done.” Kageyama said without real conviction.

Hinata leaned a bit back so they could see each other’s faces. “You want to stop kissing?” he asked with his lips twisting into smirk.

“No.” Kageyama grumbled, leaning down to take Hinata’s lips once more. The warmth of Hinata’s mouth and body against his own, and the comfort it brought his heart. He was sure would be perfectly content kissing Hinata until the end of time.

And, if only for this sweet moment, there was no space in his mind for volleyball.

________________ 

By the end of their 3rd year, they had lost count of everything. They’d kiss too often—stolen in between classes and even in dusty closets—and had gone much, much further than just exchanging breaths and clothing.

The large majority of borrowed clothes were shirts: some that fit too big and some that fit too small, some held on to on purpose, and too few returned. Come graduation there was very little that they hadn’t shared with each other, but at the same time, there was so much they were keeping tucked inside their hearts—much like the other’s clothing they kept in a corner of their closets for no better reason than it bringing them comfort.

Hinata was going to take a year to prepare for Brazil and then live there for two years.

Kageyama was staying in Japan but leaving Miyagi to join the V. League.

Those were facts they both had let silently sink in for the last few months, reaching more often for each other’s lips and bodies to fend off the sadness that came with thinking they’d be so far apart. They’d be fine. Three years was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Afterall, the most important thing they shared was a promise.

“Hey…” Kageyama muffled around Hinata’s lips, pulling himself away for a second to look into those honeyed eyes he’d grown to love so much. “Instead of making out outside the gym, want to practice a bit for the last time?”

Hinata sighed, giving Kageyama a tender smile. “We said we wouldn’t do that, Kageyama.”

Kageyama pressed his lips to Hinata’s forehead, hand diving into his now longer nest of hair. Kageyama didn’t want to admit he was anxious, but he knew that the strain in his voice would betray him.  “I know. I promise, just one final time…”

Yet, no matter how big the lump in his throat was becoming, he was determined to see Hinata off with a smile.

They threw their bags, diplomas and gakurans in a corner—the removal of the gakuran being particularly easy since they had given away all their buttons to their admirers and gifted each other the 2nd button. It was unbearably cheesy, and their embarrassment mixed with all the other emotions swirling in their stomachs was what prompted their earlier make out session.

“I want to receive your serve,” Hinata loudly stated inside the storage closet.

“That’s it?” Kageyama asked as they pulled the net outside.

“That’s it.”

After they set up the net, Kageyama walked to the corner of his side of the court with the ball in hand. He felt happy holding any volleyball he could get his hands on, but something about holding this one on this court and across from this beautiful person in this very moment, was a feeling he probably wouldn’t ever be able to perfectly replicate.

He spun the ball like he usually did and served it at full power. In a split second Hinata had position himself right in front of the ball and perfectly received it, bouncing it to where the setter would stand. The echoes of the ball bouncing on the floor reverberated in the air and Kageyama felt his heart contract painfully.

“See you later, Kageyama” Hinata said with that bright smile of his. Even though they had agreed on this, it felt sudden, as if he wanted to run away.

“Yeah. See you later,” Kageyama replied with an attempt at a smile. “And hurry up and cut your hair. You look like a bush.”

Hinata grabbed his belongings with a chuckle, though the end of it died in his throat. “I was just going to do that, okay?! Geez.”

And that was supposed to be that.

But with every step Hinata took toward that open gym door, the stronger the prick in Kageyama’s heart. As if there was just one more thing to do—just one more thing to say.

“…Wait!” Kageyama yelled.

Hinata spun around, eyes wide and glossy. “Y-Yeah?”

Kageyama rushed to his bag and took out his black Karasuno jersey. He marched up to Hinata and shoved it in his hands. “Here. Keep this.”

Hinata grabbed the jersey and slowly brought it to his chest to hug it. “…I’ll borrow it.” He searched his own bag and passed Kageyama his Karasuno jersey. “As long as you borrow mine.”

Kageyama squeezed the fabric of Hinata’s jersey in his hands and tried to keep his voice steady. “I’ll hand it back next time I see you on the court.”

Hinata gave a soft laugh while rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s a promise.”

What does someone say to the person they’ve loved from a distance for the past three years? A person who was their best friend, their best teammate, and their first love. A person who never stepped down from a challenge, who was competitive to a fault yet warmhearted, and whose sleeping face he had countlessly kissed across his phone screen on a video call.

Kageyama had always pictured how their reunion would turn out but actually running into Hinata on his way to the bathroom certainly wasn’t it. And he’d never planned what to say either. So, he just spat out whatever his wired mind produced.

“Not going to have any bowel issues today, are you?” Kageyama yelled out. Not the most romantic first line for a reunion, but whatever.

Hinata stopped in his tracks and turned to face Kageyama with a grin. They shared a short-lived moment of silence which was interrupted with Hinata rushing to Kageyama and giving him—well, the part of his torso he could reach—a bear hug.

“Woah,” Kageyama said in surprise, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You sure have gotten strong.”

“I can probably lift you,” Hinata bragged as he squeezed a bit harder and then let go. “But I don’t want to risk doing anything stupid before our match. I don’t want to give you an excuse when we beat your team fair and square.”

Kageyama smirked and looked to the right and left of them. He then swiftly dipped down to give Hinata the shortest of kisses, left hand sliding down to link their pinkies as he pulled away to set some distance between them. “I missed you so much I’m not even annoyed by that statement. Even though it’s obvious my team is going to win.”

Hinata laughed, his cheeks blushing faintly as he met Kageyama’s eyes. “Who knew you’d be so ballsy…I missed you too. More than I thought possible.”

Kageyama squeezed Hinata’s pinky with his own. “You kept our promise.”

“Of course. Did you keep yours?”

“As if it was hard to keep…” Kageyama looked off to the side, his free hand rubbing the back of his reddening neck. “Your jersey practically lives in my sports bag.”

Hinata’s lips pulled up into a toothy smile. “I did the same. Let’s switch after the match?”

“Okay.” Kageyama let go of Hinata’s finger. “See you after the match. Go use the bathroom.”

“Oh, yeah!” Hinata turned to walk to the bathroom but turned right back around, catching Kageyama’s arm. “Ah, hold up.”

“What?”

Hinata lowered his voice so only Kageyama could hear him. “If I win this match, I’m going to propose to you.”

“H-Hah? Wait, Hinata—”

“If you hate the idea, just don’t lose,” Hinata said with a playful salute before rushing into the bathroom.

Kageyama stood frozen in place. In his mind he had no doubt that his team would win.

…But for the first time in Kageyama’s life, he didn’t completely detest the idea of losing a match.

#haikyuu!! #kagehina #fanfic

[sasspiria]

(The Odds Of This Are) Astronomical Chapter Seven

Pairing: Vaas Montenegro/Jason Brody

Fandom: Far Cry 3

Tags/Warnings:  Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence,Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics,True Mates,Alpha Vaas,Omega Jason,Biting,Grant Lives,Accidental Bonding,Angst and Porn,Porn With Plot,Scenting,Rough Body Play,Don’t Examine This Too Closely,Canon-Typical Violence,Intercrural Sex,Claiming Bites,Snowballing,Deepthroating,Excessive Drinking,Knotting

Summary: Omegas were uncommon but they weren't rare by any means. True mates, however, were an entirely different story. The odds of any person having one were astronomical at best. When Jason finds that he does have a true mate, he should feel amazing about being so lucky. A part of him wants to feel excited, damn all the consequences, but at the same time it just feels like the universe is giving him a hard smack to the face when his true alpha comes in the form in a psychopathic, murdering, drug addled pirate that kidnapped him and his friends. All Jason can hope is that he can use Vaas' manic affections towards him to his advantage and save the rest of them.

Read it below the cut or On Ao3 Here

Jason was shaking with rage, and a chill from the water he was dripping in set deep in his bones as he made his way back to camp. He couldn’t believe that that had happened to him, that someone had tried to kill him – or, more likely, tried to kidnap him and had just settled for killing him.

Jason supposed that he had just been lucky enough that the man had been just incompetent enough when it came to trying to take him away, that he was almost able to get himself away. He was luckier still when he had come back from this mostly unscathed. Mostly. His pride and mental health state were wounded more than anything else.

He groaned in annoyance as he thought about it – it didn’t make much sense to him why someone would think it was a good idea, but very little had truly made sense to him since he had arrived on the island. Rook just wasn’t a place where much could make sense, he decided. He knew that he would have to go with the flow of things to some extent, but this was just fucking ridiculous.

He walked to the showers first, intent on getting as much dirt, grime and runoff from the lake from him as possible. Once he was in there, he scrubbed down his body until every reachable part of his skin was raw and tinted with a pinkish hue. He still felt awful, but at least he was clean now.

When he came back to his room, he noticed Vaas sitting in a way that suggested he was anticipating something. Jason noticed blood under his fingernails, noticed how his legs were bouncing with a rambunctious sort of anxiety. “Are you alright?” He asked, eyeing him warily as he spoke.

Vaas didn’t answer his question and instead focused on Jason. The pirate had an amused expression plastered on his face as he took in Jason’s haggard appearance, “Woah, hermano, you look like you’ve been fucking around with alligators.” He said in a playfully mocking tone of voice. Jason forgot his line of thinking at that moment, giving him a dirty look.

He walked only a few more steps before he collapsed onto the bed, allowing Vaas to pull him close enough that Jason could latch onto him like a koala. “Fuck you.” He muttered, even as he continued to burrow himself against the other. “You have no idea what I just went through, you asshole.”

“What fucking happened then, huh?” The alpha snapped back with a mixture of annoyance and amusement in his voice, “C’mon, stop being a bitch and tell me what’s gotten into you.”

Vaas thought that he was acting really needy, but he couldn’t say that he really minded it. They hadn’t gotten the chance to really see each other in a few days – the two of them were always busy, him with running his half of the island and Jason with trying to undermine Hoyt’s empire entirely. He let Jason curl up against him and mope for several minutes before he finally asked what the hell was wrong with him. “I ran into someone.” Jason started vaguely, “They tried to grab me, I don’t fucking know, kidnap me probably, then I fell down this… hole in the ground with a lake below it, I don’t know the word-”

“Cistern,” Vaas told him and Jason waved him off dismissively in reply to that.

“Yeah, whatever.” The omega snapped back, anger bubbling up again into another pointed yet impotent outburst. “Point is, someone tried to fucking kill me yesterday.” He grumbled, “If I ever see that asshole again, I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna slice their throat open or… I don’t know. This fucking sucks. Shit, I’m a mess. I look like the creature from the black lagoon.”

Vaas laughed at that, “You do look like you got fucked up.” He said, not unkindly as he stroked his knuckles over the omega’s temple in a soothing manner. “Do you think you know who it was?”

“I don’t know.” Jason replied in a flippant tone of voice, “Some fucking guy I guess. He was older. Had an accent.” He closed his eyes, like he was falling asleep, and kept quiet for a few moments before he spoke up again, “His name was Dennis.” He added, the information coming back to him in a sudden manner. “But that doesn’t narrow much down, does it?”

“Someone should have been out there,” Vaas replied in an almost confused tone of voice before his demeanor switched to one of incredible anger. “Lazy fucks, too busy getting fucked up to do what I fucking pay them.” He would have to do something to make sure that his men weren’t going around thinking that they could just get away with slacking off, but he could do that later, he had time.

“Well, no one was,” Jason replied in a deadpan tone of voice. He sighed, actively trying to keep himself calm. He had suddenly felt so tired, both physically and emotionally. He would rather just go to sleep than keep thinking about it. “If someone was there… well, it’s not like we can know if anything would have been different. All I know is that if I find him, I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

That was a plan of action that he knew for sure that they could both agree on.

Grant did not hold much trust for Willis – in fact, he was expectant that he would be screwed over in some way by the CIA agent sooner or later. Probably after he got what he wanted. His time in the military hadn’t instilled much trust for highers-up in the government like him. Still, he had no other leads into where the rest of his friends were and he had to work with the man whether he wanted to or not. But so far, all of Willis’ information had been good, so he kept working with the man and he would keep on working with him so long as the information and the help that he gave was good.

He felt as though he was on a very stringent time limit, as he drove to the lookout point that Willis had sent him the coordinates to. He almost crashed the car over the point, that was how much of a rush that he was in. As he climbed out of the vehicle, he noticed a helicopter hovering above the platform and quickly crouched at the lookout with a sniper rifle in his hands.

Oliver was being dragged out of a vehicle, roughly handled by a group of pirates. The men pushed him down on his knees and gestured for him to walk forward with rifles pointed closely towards him. Grant was almost entirely sure that he could hear the stoner copping an attitude at the men threatening him.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that, because he was happy to see that those pirates hadn’t crushed Ollie’s spirit just yet before he shot the first pirate – the one right behind him – in the head. The stoner looked up at him for just a second before he was running for cover, with the gun that the dead pirate had dropped in his hands. As soon as he was behind cover, he was shooting at the men desperately, as if his life depended on it – most likely because it did. ` Every shot that he took with the dodgy rifle, had the hairs on the back of Oliver’s neck standing on end. In his mind, the gun could become jammed at any moment, or he could run out of bullets, or there could be a sniper waiting for the right moment to mow him down at any moment. He hadn’t been this stressed out in years. Fuck, he needed to get stoned again, he had been sober for far too long.

The two of them managed to work together without getting into contact – with Grant sniping each and every pirate that he could see to make a path for Oliver so that the stoner could make his way off of the platform and onto a boat that had been conveniently docked at it. As soon as Grant could see that Oliver was somewhat safe, he ran down to meet the blonde in person.

Despite the fact that he had almost been sold into slavery, shot to death or maimed, Oliver was still in high spirits. “Hey, man,” he said, in a breezy and casual tone, as if everything that he had just been through had absolutely no effect on him, and pulled Grant forth for a hug. They didn’t have the time to sit around and catch up with each other though, so Grant quickly and forcibly pulled away.

“We need to get out of here.” He said tersely, in reply to the somewhat disheartened effect that Oliver had taken on. “Drive the boat and I’ll take care of any of the pirates that try and follow us.” He directed and Oliver was quick to jump to the wheel and drive them off.

It was a good thing too, because, in moments, large swaths of Vaas’ men were running after him in trucks and boats, haphazardly shooting at the two of them. Grant and Oliver scrambled for cover until Grant was able to get himself seated upon the machine gun that was mounted to the top of the boat.

The drive across the sea was chaotic and neither of them were entirely sure that they would survive to reach the far off safety of Dr. Earnhardt’s home. But they made it and that was really all that mattered to either of them. Grant helped Oliver off of the boat before they made the short hike up to the cave under the chemist’s home. It didn’t take long for Oliver to make himself comfortable in one corner of the cave, already unrolling a half-smoked joint that had been hastily stuffed in his pocket. Grant smirked at that, glad to see that everything that had happened hadn’t affected him much yet.

Before he left again, he walked up to Liza and asked her where Daisy was. As if by magic, Daisy appeared out from the wreck of a ship that she had been working her ass off to fix so they could get off this island. There were smatterings of oil smeared on her cheek, neck, and chest and her breath came out in heavy puffs like she had been working for hours on the thing. “Hey.” She greeted in a breathless sort of way before she pulled him in for a tight hug. “How have you- how have you been? I don’t think I’ve seen you in a few days.” She asked and before he could reply she added, “How bad is it out there?”

Grant struggled to come up with an answer that wasn’t, “It’s a nightmare.” simply because he didn’t want to worry her too much. “It’s been…well, it’s been a lot.” He started, “Jason is running around the island with one of the men that kidnapped us-”

“Yeah, he told me about that. You’re worried about him?” She interjected quickly, sensing a change in the atmosphere between them. Intuitively, she understood that there had been some underlying tension between the two brothers about Jason’s uneasy reliance on Vaas and his seemingly kismet bond with the pirate king seemed like some kind of cruel joke that the universe had played on all of them.

But Grant knew Jason well enough to know that telling him that he was being an idiot for trusting Vaas, true bond or not, was a bad idea. The only thing it could possibly accomplish was Jason getting angry and running off, “Of course I am. But I can’t make him- it’s fucking complicated, you know. I don’t know what to do about it.” He replied in an exhausted tone of voice, betraying how helpless he really felt about all this. “And I don’t even know where Riley is, he could be dead for all we know.”

And that was just the tip of the iceberg, he still had to find Keith, figure out a way to safely get off the island – he wasn’t entirely sure if the boat that Daisy was working on would be able to last half a mile at sea before it crumbled to dust. Daisy squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, pulling him out of the malignant daze that he had been in. “Hey, we will get through this.” She emphasized the ‘we’ so strongly that it reassured him enough that the heavy weight that was bearing down upon him lifted off of him.

Although he wasn’t entirely sure that he believed it, he wanted to. He smiled back at her as he answered back to her, “Yeah, you know what, you’re right.” He said in a quiet and contemplative tone of voice. “We’ll figure a way out of here.”

Daisy was about to say something to that when the walkie-talky that Grant had on his belt started ringing. For a few moments, he thought about just ignoring it – he hadn’t had the time to it down with his girlfriend and just be with her since they had crash landed on Rook – but his instincts got the better of him. Begrudgingly, he picked up the small radio and answered the call. “What do you want?” He snapped into the receiver, not in the mood to deal with any nonsense that Willis would ask him to help with now.

If Willis was bothered by Grant's annoyed demeanor, then he didn’t let it on. “Grant,” He greeted the younger man, his lack of care for Grant’s obvious disinterest in talking to him present and obvious in his tone and cadence. “Look, Willis, I’m kind of busy-”

“Busy? Yeah, I am too. Busy trying to get the hell off this island.” The CIA agent cut Grant off in an icy, acerbic tone. “I need your help.” He explained. “You help me with this one last thing and I’ve got something else for you that you need.”

And that gave Grant pause, wondering exactly what Willis had for him. “Like what?” He asked, exhausted and exasperated from all of this already. When Willis responded back, telling him that he had the location of one of his friends and he’d give it to him once he had secured Grant’s help. The American grit his teeth at that, feeling as though the safety and security of his friends and his brothers were being held hostage by Willis.

He knew that he needed to give in, though, and assured the agent that he would be there to help him as soon as he was able and Willis was just going to have to lay low until he got there. Daisy had been listening to the conversation that Grant had been having – just by virtue of her being only a few feet away – so when Grant told her that he had to go, she was completely understanding and told him to stay safe. He made no real promises to that.

When Grant arrived at the checkpoint that Willis had given him the coordinates to, he could see that the CIA agent was already in the middle of a fight and he sprung into action. He got his weapons ready and ran out of the car and down the hill, taking down two pirates that had been too busy trying to kill Willis to notice him running up behind them with a machete in his hand.

It was wonderfully, ridiculously, absurdly easy to get past the first and second circle of men so that he could make his way to Willis’ side. For his part, Willis did look genuinely grateful to see him – even if it was undercut by him snapping, “It took you long enough to get here.” Which forced Grant to remind himself that even if he really didn’t like the CIA agent, that didn’t mean that he deserved to die.

Or be left to die on his own, at the mercy of dozens of pirates with an ax to grind for the both of them. So all he could really do was explain with gritted teeth that he had gotten there as fast as he could and the two of them decided to let the subject drop before they ended up being surrounded by Vaas’ men once again. They both knew that it wouldn’t take long before more of them were coming to kill them.

There were so many of the pirates, hanging around every corner of the islands. It seemed impossible how many of the pirates were still there, thriving on the island, but it was just the topsy-turvy reality that the island operated under.

Willis ran to the back of the helicopter as he noticed smoke coming from the engine. “Son of a bitch!” Willis cursed to himself under his breath, before he turned to address Grant, who was standing by waiting for some kind of direction. “They blew the goddamn-” He tried to explain but noticed a group of pirates congregating in the background. “We got trouble, I need to fix this- just make sure that I don’t get killed or you never find out where your brother is.”

Willis was definitely trying to come off as threatening but it seemed desperate more than anything else so Grant disregarded what the man said out of hand. Once he fully processed what Willis had said, he was struck with the realization that he was talking about Riley and he went fully into auto-pilot.

He struck down pirate after pirate, giving them everything that he had – filling them with both bullets and arrows, running at them with his machete, throwing knives and lobbing grenades and molotov's at them – anything to get the lot of them down, anything to make sure that he could figure out where exactly Riley was, if he was alive or dead, if he should just start mourning him already.

Somehow, the both of them made it through – with dozens of dead pirates at Grant’s feet, blood and dirt caking his skin and a heavy exhaustion coming over him as he finally allowed himself to relax. He looked over at Willis for a moment before he walked over to the man. “You know where my brother is?” He asked in a tired and world-weary sort of way.

“I don’t have an exact location on your brother.” Willis said, “On Riley at least. I know where the other brother is. What a fucking mess that is- anyways, I don’t have the exact location on Riley, but I know he’s messed up somewhere in Hoyt’s inner circle. Fortunately, for you, I got an operative in deep cover there.” He handed Grant a folder with information on the man that he should be looking for – a man by the name of Sam Becker.

The American looked it over for a moment before he grits his teeth in frustration as he had been hoping that it would be even slightly less complicated than it was. “That’s it?” He snapped back, his tone reeking of indignant anger and disappointment. “The name of one of your operatives is all you can give me? What if he’s dead already? What if he’s-” He groaned and threw his hands up in frustration. “You know what? Fine. It’s better than nothing.”

Grant was walking off again, back in the direction of the truck he had come here in when he was called back one more time by Willis. “Wait, Grant, before you go I got one more thing for you.” Willis said, loud enough to draw the attention of the whole lower half of the island, as he stepped up onto the footholds at the outside of the aircraft. “Your friend Keith. He’s stuck with…er, with one of Hoyt’s men has him, a man named Buck Hughes. He’s somewhere in Bad Town, so I’d suggest looking for Buck back in town.”

Grant was fuming, “He was in Bad Town the whole time?” He snapped, “And you waited all of this time to tell me, what are you… are you fucking kidding me?” He squeezed his fist, digging his fingernails into his palm to stop himself from hitting the CIA agent for hiding this from him for so long. He didn’t bother to really ask, “Why?” because he was pretty sure that he already knew the answer.

Willis said something in response before he fully climbed into the helicopter, but he couldn’t really hear what the man had said over the reverb of the helicopter. Grant didn’t bother to try and figure out exactly what he was trying to say. He waved his hand in dismissal as he walked off, deciding to go back to the village to see if anyone needed his help.

Jason had been seeking out Grant, wanting to talk to him about a vaguely plotted out plan that he had to undermine Hoyt’s efforts from right under his nose – he knew that he would need his brothers' help sooner or later, if he was going to pull this off he couldn’t just do it alone. The idea had come to him quickly and he felt the need to talk it over with Grant first – and he just wanted to see his brother again and catch up with him.

So he had decided to go to a place that he knew Grant would come to sooner or later – Amanaki Village. At first, he tried to keep his presence under wraps – worrying that one or two of the villagers would recognize him as Vaas’ omega. He knew that some rumors had spread around about him, even though Vaas had made sure that the pirates knew the consequences of disrespecting him or Jason.

Still, he seemed to be able to blend into the village seemingly unnoticed. He kept a low profile as he took to sleuthing around the area, looking out for signs of his brother – knowing that he was bound to return sooner or later.

And he was perfectly fine with doing that as long as he needed to, right up until the moment where he saw the man that had attacked him a few days ago. He sighed and muttered out a string of curses to himself as he confidently charged towards the man.

Dennis must have not seen him coming, or expected that he would be prepared for a fight, because Jason had overpowered him in moments and questioned the older man with a machete pointed at his throat. “Who the hell are you?” He snapped, asking too fast for Dennis to appropriately answer, “Why did you attack me?”

Dennis swallowed audibly, hyper-aware of the danger before him, but he did not speak up. He was resolute that any answer that he gave the omega had the chance to hurt Citra and her cause. So he said nothing, deciding that the risk of death was well worth it if it meant that Citra could have everything that she wanted and everything that she needed.

It did not take long for Jason to start getting frustrated with him, “What’s wrong with you, huh?” He snapped, “Wh-what are you stupid or something? Did you suddenly become fucking deaf and mute? Answer me.” The omega was acutely aware of a small crowd of concerned villagers, looking on at Jason and Dennis – but decidedly not intervening. He wondered, briefly, if they were waiting to see what he would do before they retaliated.

Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice come out from the background. “Jason, what the hell?” Grant snapped at him, turning the omega’s attention towards his brother. He looked like he was seriously disappointed in Jason. It oddly reminded him of how overprotective Grant had been when Jason had presented as an omega. Dad had died just the summer before he had presented and Grant had taken it upon himself to take care of the rest of his family to fill the hole that he had left in his wake.

He had always been a little overprotective – he was a good brother, he was never mean or prone to bullying and anytime that anyone was unkind to Jason or Riley, he was always quick to jump to their defense – but once Jason had presented as an omega, he became that much more protective of Jason.

He remembers one time, when he was fifteen and stupid, where Grant had chased out a boyfriend of his that had been sneaking in his room under everyone’s noses down the street. Come to think of it, he doesn’t think that he ever saw that boy again.

So, when he heard Grant speak to him in that sort of way, and look at him with such a disappointed expression, Jason couldn’t help but react to him in the same way that he always had. “But… he-” Jason tried to protest, but all of his thoughts, all of his counterarguments came out as messy and disjointed. After moments of heavy and tense silence between all of them – between Jason, Grant, Dennis and even the villagers that watched in apprehension and interest – dissipated as he let go of Dennis. He stepped back a few times, a sudden feeling of lightheadedness overcoming him. He worked to physically overcome the sensations that had suddenly taken over him.

He held his head tight like he had a migraine – and he might as well have had one, with how off-kilter he was feeling – and squeezed his eyes shut for several moments. When he opened his eyes again, Grant was offering him his hand and asking him if he was feeling alright. Jason didn’t reply to any of his questions and Grant took that as, “Of course not.”

He gently pulled Jason along and he followed suit. Grant waited until the two of them were hidden away in a secure shack before he decided to say anything to Jason about the absolutely deranged outburst that he had just witnessed. “What the hell was that?” He asked once again, looking at Jason with a wary expression.

“What are you talking about?” Jason replied sarcastically, “I mean, isn’t it obvious? I was trying to kill him.” He replied, “And don’t fucking look at me like that, I’m not- I didn’t just go after someone cause I’m crazy, okay? He deserved it, as far as I’m concerned. I would have gone through with it too but…”

Jason sighed in aggravation with himself and with his entire situation, “I haven’t been feeling right. Something’s wrong with me and I can’t put my finger on it. I just feel wrong.” He tried to explain what was going on with him, but felt as though he really wasn’t getting through to the elder Brody. “I, I don’t know what it is… it’s just, it feels so damn weird.”

Grant didn’t know what to say to Jason, as he was just as confused about the omega’s situation as Jason was himself. He settled for pulling the younger closer, letting Jason rest against him for comfort. He was so overwhelmed that he stayed silent for several minutes, accepting the familial affection for what it was.

The realization of what had been going on with him hit him suddenly and he broke away from Grant. “I have to go.” He blurted out, “It’s my… I need to get back to the camp.” He stated less than eloquently and he was just thankful that Grant seemed to understand the gist of what he said.

“Let me help you at least.” The elder Brody sibling offered, still looking at Jason with a wary and worried sort of expression besetting his features.

“Jesus, is it really that bad? Do I really look that helpless?” He asked in a self-deprecating manner, smiling weakly at Grant. Grant smiled at him in a way that very clearly dictated that his answer was obviously ‘Yes, you do.’

He allowed Grant to take him as far as the beach across from where Vaas’ island was perched before he decided that he could make the rest of the way back by himself. He would come back to Amanaki Village another time. When his head was clear again he would make sure that Dennis didn’t try to attack him or kidnap him again. He couldn’t afford those kinds of distractions, and if he needed to kill the man to get him away then he would.

Jason was dizzy and weak as he ran into the cabin that he and Vaas shared. All that he could think was that it was a place that he would be safe in. He could wait there, lock himself in without having to worry about anyone coming after him and taking advantage of him in his weakened and vulnerable state while he eagerly awaited Vaas’ return.

#vaason #jason brody #vaas montenegro #farcry3 #far cry 3 #fc3 #far cry #abo au #alpha beta omega dynamics #lemons #thats how it be now

[reconditarmonia]

Dear Rule 63 Author

Hi! Thank you for writing for me! I’m reconditarmonia here and on AO3. I have anon messaging off, but, er, I can answer any questions you might have about my requests in my mod capacity if you contact the exchange email ;).

Fullmetal Alchemist | Machineries of Empire | Moby Dick | Spinning Silver | Wolf 359

General likes:

– Relationships that aren’t built on romance or attraction. They can be romantic or sexual as well, but my favorite ships are all ones where it would still be interesting or compelling if the romantic component never materialized.

– Loyalty kink! Trust, affectionate or loving use of titles, gestures of loyalty, replacing one’s situational or ethical judgment with someone else’s, risking oneself (physically or otherwise) for someone else, not doing so on their orders. Can be commander-subordinate or comrades-in-arms.

– Heists, or other stories where there’s a lot of planning and then we see how the plan goes.

– Femslash, complicated or intense relationships between women, and female-centric gen. Women doing “male” stuff (possibly while crossdressing).

– Stories whose emotional climax or resolution isn’t the sex scene, if there is one.

– Uniforms/costumes/clothing.

– Stories, history, and performance. What gets told and how, what doesn’t get told or written down, behavior in a society where everyone’s consuming media and aware of its tropes, how people create their personas and script their own lines.

Smut Likes: clothing, uniforms, sexual tension, breasts, manual sex, cunnilingus, grinding, informal d/s elements, intensity.

General DNW: rape/dubcon, torture, other creative gore; unrequested AUs, including “same setting, different rules” AUs such as soulmates/soulbonds; PWP; food sex; embarrassment; focus on pregnancy; Christmas/Christian themes; infidelity; unrequested polyamory; focus on unrequested canon or non-canon ships; unrequested trans versions of characters; swapping female characters to male; unequal levels of investment in the relationship (including concerns about same that turn out to be unwarranted), or the idea of a character accepting something they're unhappy with as the most they're going to get.

A note: if we matched on an / ship, I generally don't require you to include a kiss, sex, or overt romantic language if you feel that you'd have to shoehorn it in. I'll trust that you wrote it with shippy intent.

About Rule 63 Exchange specifically: I have no strong preference for character names, with a slight preference for sticking with their canon names; it’s up to you whether you want to justify any resulting names that would be unusual for women or just gloss over it. As far as characters’ personalities and gender expression are concerned, I tend to want to see them as similar to their canon selves, just female. I’m probably fine with unrequested characters also being swapped to female, but feel free to check if you’re not sure. I don't expect, nor particularly want, a big deal made over characters' strong gender identity qua identity as female or whatnot.

It's a little confusing to tell with the AO3 interface, but I've requested General Audiences on everything, and additionally Explicit on FMA, Machineries, and Wolf 359.

—

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist

Ship(s): F!Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye

I love Roy and Riza's loyalty kink in canon so very much, so...what if they were lesbians

There are definitely some worldbuilding-y places this could go - the Amestrian military obviously has female soldiers in it, but not as many as male, especially at the higher echelons, apparently, and we don't see any female State Alchemists; does Roy's status as a powerful alchemist also vault her into a position of command and influence that most women, barring Olivier, don't get to? With regard specifically to how their relationship is different worldbuilding-wise, some kind of document or documents (newspaper, history book) or other outsider perspective on President Mustang and her decades-long professional relationship with Riza Hawkeye, so close they even live together/travel together/entertain guests together, neither of them ever married, that sort of thing? Is Roy's obfuscating public image in this AU still about going with a lot of women, or are they men? (butch or otherwise known lesbian Roy is great, but also not necessary)

But I'd be equally happy to see a fic that didn't deal with that, and that was just canon dynamics but more so and with lesbians. I love their trust and competence and stoically hidden but very very intense feelings, the willingness to risk oneself or the other person, or to stake a lot on the other person’s competence (and willingness to hurt or sacrifice the other person because their shared cause says it’s right, too, all the times that comes up), the fighting together in tandem. Is there a dangerous mission (or intelligence-collecting situation) where their deep familiarity/trust/awareness of each other’s presence and fighting style and communication come into play (god, that bit in canon where Hawkeye shoots two guys right over Mustang’s shoulder), or where they worry about each other’s safety? I love the "protect my back" exchange so, so much (I'm particularly interested in fics set during a time when that is already part of their relationship history, rather than fics set in Ishval or shortly after, and I am not really interested in fics set when they were children or young adults at all) and the way that, eventually, ends up playing out with regard to Envy. I love the intimacy of their work relationship and personal history, on levels from casual to very intense, and would love it with sexual tension in how they notice and appreciate each other’s physicality and presence and competence (hands??? muscles?) Pining up to 11, or resolved sexual tension? (I would prefer Riza as dom if you write a d/s take on this.)

Fandom-Specific DNW: framing of the Ishvalan genocide as a bad situation that happened to the Amestrian characters; canon-typical loss of body parts.

—

Fandom: Machineries of Empire

Ship(s): F!Shuos Jedao/Ajewen Cheris; F!Shuos Jedao & Ajewen Cheris

I know sound like a broken record throughout this signup, but I love Cheris and Jedao’s friendship and loyalty kink (“Now and forever, I’m your gun” and the kneeling! aaahhh!) and, you know, what if that, but also Jedao were a hot woman.

I don’t have a lot of specific plot prompts - just a general interest in intense feelings, “codependency” as understood by fandom, loyalty and trust holding up under strain, deferring to someone’s competence or sense of ethics even though you don’t know how it will turn out, making difficult choices, verbal or nonverbal displays of loyalty like the kneeling and swearing and the WHOLE KEL GLOVE THING. I’d be excited to read something set during the Ninefox timeframe when Jedao is in Cheris’s head, but I think I would be most interested in something set post-Glass Cannon when oh my god, they were roommates telepathically bonded, after all the plot events that create that strong Jedao->Cheris loyalty. Jedao’s canonical kinks are *thumbs up* (I’ve requested general audiences fic as well as explicit, so it’s also fine if they don’t come up or if they’re referred to but not, er, acted out onscreen).

Fandom-Specific DNW: I’m aware that there’s a lot of torture and dubcon in canon. I don’t mind if you mention that they exist but I’d like to reiterate that I absolutely do not want any onscreen, or any details of torture even mentioned. DNW (explicitly) male Kujen or Ruo in this AU; if you don’t feel like swapping them to women I would rather they not be mentioned.

—

Fandom: Moby Dick

Ship(s): F!Captain Ahab & None; F!Captain Ahab & F!Pequod Crew; F!Ishmael/F!Queequeg

I'd love to know more about these female sailor(s) and what drives them. A female Ishmael might still decide to sign on to a ship whenever she gets the blues, but it'd be socially fairly different, mightn't it? (Worldbuilding-wise, I'd be more interested in a world where sailing and whaling are still typically male things as in our world, even if you make them a little less exclusively male, than an egalitarian or matriarchal world; something that women might do, without necessarily disguising themselves as men, but a GNC thing to do.) Would her already diverging from the "expected" female path in this regard affect her reception of Queequeg as someone who's an outsider to Nantucket society, and the intimacy she offers? What does she still find outlandish? As for Queequeg herself, is her life a typical female life for her home culture, or not?

As for Ahab - just imagine this fanatic, tragic, vengeful character as a woman - with the willpower not only to do all the things canonical male Ahab does but also in a society where women aren't really supposed to sail or kill or lead! Is she the odd one out in an otherwise male crew, or are there more women in the crew by the time she's captain? Was she already a whaler when she lost the leg or, in this AU, did this drive her to become one?

—

Fandom: Spinning Silver

Ship(s): Miryem Mandelstam/F!Staryk Lord

I love Miryem, and I’m so interested in the ways that making the Staryk Lord a woman would change Miryem’s entry into the Staryk world and the romance that eventually develops between them. Maybe same-sex marriage is common among the Staryk, and that’s one of the customs that are new and unfamiliar to Miryem in this new world. Would this be a Miryem who had never imagined being attracted to a woman before but comes to fall for the Staryk Lady, or one who simply couldn’t have imagined being able to marry one and have that be a normal life? (For values of “normal” that include ice lands and gold magic!) How does the fact of the marriage being same-sex affect Miryem’s initial understanding of it as a business arrangement, or for that matter, affect her understanding of the offer of queenship as a marriage at all? What makes them fall for each other?

Canon Miryem wonders what her role as queen is, thinking that she’d know about managing a household and having children and sewing if she were married to a human lord - is it the same if she has a fairy wife instead of a fairy husband, more so because there’s not even the hope of a gendered complementarian aspect to fall back on, less so because the Staryk Lady is there as an example of what a female monarch in the Staryk lands does? Does Miryem try to be more like her, or to find her own accounting-powers-and-personal-bonds niche?

It’s so important to canon Miryem to have a Jewish wedding with the Staryk Lord - what would that look like here? What happens when she comes back to the human world not only the queen of a magic country, but married to a woman (and in love with her, depending on when you set it)?

—

Fandom: Wolf 359

Ship(s): F!Daniel Jacobi/F!Warren Kepler, F!Daniel Jacobi/F!Warren Kepler/Alana Maxwell

My new fandom this year! The SI-5 trio are my favorites, and I'm absolutely wild about the way they openly value and prioritize and trust each other over everyone else who's nominally on the same side. So much of the Kepler/Jacobi dynamic goes directly to my id almost from their first introduction (of Jacobi as Kepler's "good right hand"!) to Jacobi trusting Kepler with his life and following whatever orders Kepler gives and getting angry about Kepler treating him like one of them, not to mention the weird d/s vibes. But I also love their dynamic with Maxwell, not only Jacobi's devoted friendship for her but also the trust and respect Kepler has for her and vice versa (I love the conversation they have about fixing Hera, and the whole episode where Kepler has Jacobi blow up the door to save Maxwell, at the risk of the whole ship because Maxwell is that valuable and Jacobi is that good, and "maybe you were my friend but the Colonel and Daniel were family"). So...f/f? I'd love to see them on some sort of mission or in the aftermath of some sort of mission where that mutual loyalty, even as fucked-up as it can get, comes into play, with Jacobi, Kepler, and Maxwell deferring to one another's judgment and/or orders, protecting each other or deciding when they can risk each other for the sake of the mission, sorting themselves out after... Or just some d/s-y sex, possessiveness etc. Anything really about how they're the only people to each other.

I suppose I envision Jacobi and Kepler fairly similar to their canon versions presentation-wise, which would make them somewhat gender non-conforming as women - there's possibly something interesting there with whatever flavor of performative masculinity canon Kepler has going on - but honestly I haven't particularly given much thought to how they might be different as women, other than that I would find it hot and enjoy a three-way relationship with Maxwell (if that is what we matched on/what you're interested in - I'd be just as happy with Kepler/Jacobi and Maxwell just a friend) more than I would with their canon versions.

Fandom-Specific DNW: role reversal or "subbing to let go/relax" Kepler

—

#dear author letters

[rpedia]

[Ask RPedia] Fanon Overwriting Reasonable Headcanon to Detriment of Play?

Anonymous asked: You give a lot of good advice. (Hi, longtime listener, first time caller.) I was wondering if you might have any for playing a canon character with unfavorable fanon interpretations that the fandom just refuses to see any other way? I hesitate to call my portrayal “canon divergent” because it’s not, but many potential partners seem to have their own ideas of this character burned into their heads and refuse to accept my portrayal as my own. Many refuse to play with me at all because they dislike this character based on unfair fanon characterization, so I don’t even get to make my own impressions. Any advice?

Oh god-- pause here to reflect and realize that you’ve been reading for a while, thank you!-- and return to the horrible memories of playing characters with decent, responsible portrayals based on your own reading being dissed. Oh my god. Oh god. Fuck. So many memories. Because apparently that’s all I fucking do half the time. I’m forever reading canon and going off into something easily read, but generally ignored in the fandom. 

I had this one character who was super soft and lovable in canon, but I read into his actions some passive aggression, sarcasm, short temper, and typical teenager groaning. The fandom did not see that. The fandom believed there was nothing more to this character than a soft smile, warm affection, and a fatherly sense of confidence and kindness. To say that the negative opinions leveled towards me were not annoying as shit would be a misunderstanding of fact. (Luckily, canon proved out he did have a temper on him, and was sarcastic as hell. So bite me, I did him right before you knew what right was because I read into gestures instead of going with fanon.) 

So, yes I have some experience dealing with people who are trying to enforce their headcanons on you in order to get what they want, rather than playing with the character you’re actually playing! ... I’m just gonna be angry about it all post, but let’s watch...

SO. This shit, I’m gonna repeat, is annoying as fuck. I’ve again got a habit of picking up characters that are interesting in a certain light, and hated by the fandom because fanon’s primary interest is making them out as assholes with no redeemable qualities whatsoever or characters who are kind of boring if you don’t read into them. And I’ve played everything from villains, to heroes, to anti-villains, to anti-heroes so it’s not a matter of ‘well you just play bad guys and try to make them look nice!!!’ It’s a matter of reading between the lines and not immediately dismissing everything but the shallow scan tells you.

Congrats, fair question asker, you have done this. You’ve actually looked at the character, felt a connection, understood their background and/or motives, and are trying to play up what you find there. Whether it’s a misunderstood and understated part of a character, or simply a different read on what is avaliable. You are different, unique, and genuinely trying to play the character true to canon, but how canon came off to you rather than everyone else. The only issue here is people aren’t catching onto what you’re laying down.

This is suffering. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it, this is just something that comes with roleplaying. No one will read the same character the same way every single time. Every time you rewatch you catch that little quirk of the mouth that makes something previously serious into a joke and suddenly that character is entirely different for you. Everyone has their own interpretation, and if they can’t handle yours they’re better off playing with someone else or writing fanfics, that’s just facts. 

That’s honestly the best way to handle them if they can’t accept you. Say goodbye, move on, let them suckle at the teat of fandom alone. It’s better to just keep moving than start fights, let them see you RP, let them see your headcanons all fleshed out, let them make their own decision. If they don’t like how you play, that is their prerogative and they can follow their own dreams with other roleplayers. They aren’t wrong, and neither are you, they are incompatible which doesn’t mean someone involved is wrong, just their your views don’t mesh.

Doesn’t mean it don’t hurt, I know. So to help you feel better, and to build a defense against more bullshit, build up an explanation.  Create a page, a site, a profile section that details everything supporting your character decisions. Explain your character in depth, and offer canonical things to back it up. Do you think they’re a secret crybaby? Bring up instances where they’ve hidden their face, or wiped away tears, or been shown crying when no one is looking. Support your claims and explain how you got to this idea. If people have an open mind, they may read it and decide ‘well shit, this sounds neat’ and play with you. Even if they don’t agree, they might enjoy it anyways.

That brings up an important point too. Roleplaying is not canon. Just period, you’ll never be canon because you’re not writing canon, but that’s not the point of roleplaying anyways. Who the hell wants to rewrite canon exactly? Roleplaying is the “What If? World” and in it, you explore possibilities and ideas and viewpoints that may have been missed or overlooked by canon. Moments that may not go against canon but were not shown in it, or hell, moments that completely rewrite canon.

To assume that canon is that important to a roleplay is to snuff out all creativity, life, and change. You character ceases to grow because it is forced to conform to the series, and not to the events happening to it. This is horrible, honestly. This is just not something that is fun for other people by any stretch of the imagination. Every jump, every leap, every change your make together in some deep scene where you spill your feelings and desires being immediately erased? Because you wanna stick to canon? Nuh-huh, no thank you. I’m sure roleplayers like that exist, and good luck to them, but that is not what most people want out of roleplay.

Roleplaying is to enjoy things in new lights, to see other interpretations, to bring new life to a series that may be dead, on hiatus, or finished. This is what happens after Happily Ever After (or if they took another route to it, or if the writers focused on a different character as the main-- and so on and so on.) To close down someone else’s interpretation has two outcomes: you limit their happiness and creativity, and you also push things closer to what you want and expect. Sometimes this is good! Sometimes you want to see something more, specifically in line with your concept of the show so far. Coolios, picking your favorite canon route is fine. You want what seems real to you, and breaking suspension of disbelief is huge. Sometimes this is bad, when you take it too far and start telling people they’re bad or they suck at roleplaying a character just because you two came away with a very different idea.

Sometimes people actually suck at the character, and don’t add anything about them from the series at all, and play a bland rice pudding with no seasonings, and slowly eliminate everything that makes them a character. Turning them into some cardboard cut out with their face, and a self-insert. ... Yeah I wouldn’t play with that either. But shhh, they can just RP elsewhere.

Which is what I suggest. Simply, make your argument. If they disagree and refuse to play, they disagree and it’s not your job to fix that. If they disagree and give you a chance to show it in RP, then by jove, show it. If they agree that that’s a possible read, although not what they came away with, roleplaying is great. This is what I hope people aim for. AND THEN OF COURSE THERE’S THE TOTAL CONVERTS. I love those. They’re fun, if rare.

At worst, you too can write fanfics! Show the world your version, explain, show don’t tell, bring about a fandom change. When some really good fic gets passed around, that interpretation takes root. You can totally fuck up a fandom with your ideas just by getting them out there in a consumable form. People start picking it up, people who may not RP with you, but also RP the character. The whole thing shifts, and suddenly you’re validity meter shoots up. It’s tricky, you gotta nail the right tone and get some interesting fanwork out there, but by god it’s hilarious to watch if you can manage it. Just be you. If no one likes it, their loss. There’s always someone out there willing to play, and it’s no skin off your back.

#roleplaying #fanon #fandom #character interpretation #writing #RPedia #Ask RPedia #Ah yes #my usual advice #go write some fics #and tell everyone to fuck themselves if they don't like it #Fandom: Where you make up shit to explore the world you daren't in life

[ffsdownworlders]

Blood, Sweat and... Kisses?

s/o to @idiotgonewrong for this wonderful moodboard!

fandom: Shadowhunters

pairing: Jimon

1.7k words

When Simon arrived in front of the Institute, he found the lawn turned into a training zone. There were punching bags, something that looked like a huge treadmill and horizontal bars. Last but definitely not least, a gigantic obstacle course that included a lot of different sectors, most remarkably a huge tower, almost as high as the steeple on the Institute. Once again, Simon noted that the shadowhunters were completely nuts. Nothing new here.

The training zone was near empty, aside from one silhouette furiously beating a punching bag up. Since Simon couldn’t get into the institute without being invited by a shadowhunter, he decided to hope for the best, especially since Clary wasn’t picking up and he didn’t want to wait here outside all night and approached the shadowhunter.

The outcome was neither successful or a failure. It was Jace. On the one hand, Simon would most likely be let into the Institute. On the other one, Jace would make sure it took a lot of effort. He walked up to Jace, and when he heard Simon coming he stopped hitting the bag and turned to the vampire.

“Hey Jace!” Simon greeted. “Remember that time when I told you that you and the others were kinda like The Brave ones in Divergent?” Jace rolled his eyes as an answer and wiped away sweat from his forehead. Simon forced himself not to watch Jace’s arm as he did and continued; “And you denied it? Still so sure after all this?” He made a wide gesture over the training field.

Jace ignored Simon’s comment and explained: “Tomorrow’s the day when the Clave comes over to give us our yearly “fighting grade,” to make sure we are still worthy to be considered competent shadowhunters.” Was that sarcasm Simon sensed? Maybe not so strange, thinking back to Jace’s history with the Clave. “I figured why not put some extra work into it? I didn’t become the best over just one night, even if it could be hard to imagine,” Jace continued and gave him a smile.

Like so many times before, Simon couldn’t help but notice how good Jace smelled of sweat, leather and a pleasant smell that was his personal, unique one. His vampire abilities didn’t make it any better.

“So, what are you doing here anyways?” Jace asked nonchalantly, like he hadn’t noticed Simon drooling all over him. Embarrassed, Simon snapped out of it and focused. “Uh, I was gonna hang out with Clary, just watch a movie, but she didn’t pick up her phone, so I thought like: Hey, maybe that guy could help me, and it was you…” Simon didn’t realize that he was rambling nervously until Jace held up a hand and cut Simon off. “Okay, enough said. Clary isn’t here, she’s out shopping with Izzy”.

Dammit, he had looked forward to a slow evening with his best friend.

“Oh okay, well thanks for the help. See you another day,” Simon rushed, wanting to get as far as from Jace to prevent to embarrassing himself even more.

But as Simon turned over to leave, Jace called out for him;

“Hey Simon! Wait!”

Simon stopped abruptly at the sound of Jace’s voice and turned back. Jace was walking up to him, with a teasing smile on his lips. “You said earlier that you were interested in training, wanna give it a try? Take a lesson from the master himself?”

The truth was that Simon had only mentioned his interest in training as an excuse, when Jace had caught him staring a couple of weeks earlier. It was a bad idea. A terrible idea. But having an excuse to watch Jace workout was impossible to resist. He heard himself agree before he could talk some sense into his heart.

“Great! Let’s go!” They walked back into the training area and went down to business.

Jace showed Simon some of his tricks, like the perfect punch and the best stance to take during a fight. He also taught Simon how to dodge a blade and the most effective way to disarm someone with and without using a weapon. At one point he also tried to show Simon how to throw knives (even if the results were so bad that they silently decided to never speak of it again). Jace was aware of the fact that Simon’s vampire abilities gave him reflexes and speed far faster than his own, but Jace still couldn’t help but enjoy seeing Simon’s adorable frown as he attempted to perfect his new skills, even though Jace couldn’t help but mock him as he tried. Wait, Simon and adorable in the same sentence? But not even Jace could deny that Simon biting his lower lip as he focused did things to him.

The training continued, and after while Jace took a pause to drink some water. The air was still warm after a remarkably hot day. “Ready for your final challenge, padawan?” Jace asked, looking all sneaky. “Or are you afraid I’ll kick your ass?”

“I’m up for the challenge. Bring on the next task!” Simon answered, hoping that his nerves didn’t reflect in his words.

“In fact, it’s not a task, more like a competition.” Jace turned around and looked at the obstacle course. Of course.

“No way,” Simon protested. “I want to survive another night, thank you very much.”

“Come on Simon! You’re a vamp, this shouldn’t be that hard. And if it is, you really need to make sure it isn’t. Otherwise you’d be an awful vampire.”

Simon sighed, he was already defeated by Jace’s mocking tone.

“Let’s do it.”

What Jace did next really threw Simon off. Jace just casually took off his shirt, revealing his muscular torso, covered in runes. Simon almost thought that he would pass out at the sight. Jace, however, just flashed Simon a smug smirk and ran toward the first obstacle. Now that had to count as cheating, right? Simon hurried after, using his vampire speed.

The competition didn’t go that bad, except that Jace was ahead of Simon the whole time. If it wasn’t for the vampire speed there would be no chance in the world for Simon to follow. At last, Simon was in front of the tower. He looked up and saw Jace already on his way up and rushed after. The tower turned out to be the hardest part, even if it at first glance looked like an ordinary climbing wall. The background just kept on changing, from rusty metal that cut into his hands, to cold, slippery ice and even some kind of sticky paste that trapped his limbs to the wall. But having Jace’s arrogant smile on his mind, Simon couldn’t do anything but continue his fight to reach the top.

When Simon finally reached the top, a mocking smile greeted him. “Not bad for a newbie,” Jace said, laugh in his voice. He was standing in the middle of the platform, arms crossed over his chest in his typical stance. His hair was a little messy, his muscles swelling and his chest rose heavily. But instead of feeling tired, he looked like he was ready to take over the world. He looked unbelievably sexy.

“Thanks,” Simon answered with a tired smile, flustering, focusing his gaze anywhere except at Jace. He swallowed. “So can we climb down to safe ground now?”

“No way. The last part of the challenge is still left. You have to get me off this platform.”

Simon couldn’t believe his ears. “You want me to, push you from a tower?”

“Yeah, but you won’t be able to, cause I’ll have you down before a blink of an eye,” Jace answered, smirking all cocky and arrogant. “Your move, Simon.”

After these words, Simon just acted on instinct. As he started to move towards Jace, he noticed Jace getting into defense position. Maybe it was time to wipe that cocky smile off his face, Simon thought to himself and put his hands around Jace’s face and pressed his lips against Jace’s.

When Simon moved towards him, Jace thought that he could anticipate what Simon was going to do. He waited for Simon to throw a sloppy punch that was so typical for newbies, or maybe try to surprise him with a kick aimed for the knees.

But what Simon actually did, was something he was nowhere near expecting. As Simon’s lips met Jace’s, he felt a rush of emotions. Joy, happiness, desire, wanting, and more. He answered the kiss eagerly, bumping his forehead toward Simon’s as he leaned into the kiss, putting his hands on Simon’s back.

It wasn’t that Jace had never kissed someone. He had kissed girls as long as he could remember (and a lot more than just kissing, to tell the truth).  But no other kiss had made him feel this much. All because of an awkward, nerdy boy with a smile as bright as the sun. It all just felt… right?

The kiss was better than Simon could ever had imagined. Now, Jace was holding onto Simon, pulling him closer, hungry and almost rough. Not that Simon was complaining. Being close to Jace’s naked chest was heavenly. After a while, Jace pulled back, just enough to catch his breath, still holding Simon tightly. Jace’s looked dizzy, his lips were bright red and almost a little swollen. Not feeling Jace’s lips on his own, Simon suddenly remembered why they were even at the top of a tower. This opportunity was just too good to waste.

Jace wasn’t thinking anymore. All that existed was Simon. As Jace pulled away, he could feel how Simon took down his arms from behind Jace’s neck. At first, Jace was worried that he’d done something wrong, but Simon leaned in again and whispered with a teasing voice; “I hope you don’t fall all too bad.” Before Jace’s brain was able to process what he actually said, he felt Simon’s hands on his chest and before he knew it, Simon pushed him hard toward the edge of the tower.

Being trained for unexpected events your whole life actually paid off. Jace managed to gain his balance as he landed on the mats below. Just as his mind came racing back, Simon landed on the mat a few feet away from him. He looked Jace straight into the eyes. “Now this was fun, about making it a, um, a date next time?” he asked, flashing a bright smile before disappearing into the dark night, leaving a wide-eyed, blushing Jace behind. Yes, let’s make it a date, Jace thought. Soon enough Simon would realize that payback truly is a bitch.

#also s/o to ana for reading my mind and helping me with this #ceci and ty: thank you both so much! #fun fact: this is actually based on a dream i haf #*had #i woke up and was like jimon #jace #simon #jimon #jace herondale #jace wayland #jace lightwood #jace whatever #simon lewis #dailydownworlders #dailyjace #fysimonlewis #shadowhunterspocdaily #alicia writes #ffsmagnusbane #lukegarrobane

[renaroo]

Twisted Legacy (20/25)

Disclaimer: Transformers and related properties belong to Hasbro Warnings: Canon-typical language and violence, Psychological torture and horror, Post-war politics, Canon divergence/Loose canon, Hospitalization and illness, Cultist indoctrination Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence from MTMTE and exRID #54] The legacy of the Primes has had a tainted past, one that weighs heavily on Optimus, his supporters, and those who seek the legacy for the future. But as they look forward for themselves and for Cybertron, a darkness looms that threatens to further corrupt the unsteady peace of their planet with its curious claim to be the Hand of Primus himself.

It’s up to Optimus, Windblade, Rodimus, and their teams to try and save all Cybertronians from this mysterious threat and, perhaps, change the future for the better if they can.

A/N: I know there’s been a super long wait and I apologize for that, but in my defense, this ended up being quite a long chapter compared to the others and it’s also the last chapter of Part IV, so hopefully getting some long awaited answers to questions will have been worth the wait. Thank you so much for your patience and your support, guys, it means a lot. We’re only five chapters from the end! It’s so hard to believe!

Special thanks to AntaresofJuly, Isame, squireofgeekdom, Fanatic97, and Catgox for the feedback! 

Part IV: The Right to Lead Chapter 4.4: Primal Power

Brainstorm carefully balanced the wrench on the ends of his digits and waited for it to tilt in either direction. He, of course, knew it wouldn’t as he had created it and therefore it was obviously perfectly balanced, but it went a long way to proving his point to a fellow scientifically minded crewmate.

“There is nothing wrong with the wrench on any comparative, physically acknowledgeable scale,” he concluded as he looked back to Nautica only to have the wrench rudely snatched away from him.

“I told you that before you ran diagnostics on it by hand,” Nautica retorted, shaking the wrench at him in warning. “What I need from you right now is to stop bothering my things during the hours you’re not allowed in the laboratory. It’s not funny anymore, Brainstorm. Actually, it never was, but the patience required to humor you costs too much now.”

“You wound me to the spark,” Brainstorm claimed, hand on his chest. “And besides, with Chromedome more occupied with Rewind than usual and Nightbeat constantly researching something he won’t tell us about and Perceptor taking on more official duties with the Lost Light all in alarm, I literally have nothing to do with all the time I’m not allowed to be in the laboratory!”

Nautica looked highly unimpressed as she crossed her arms and stared at Brainstorm. “That doesn’t make me more sympathetic to you annoying me, Brainstorm. Why don’t you hang upside down until you can think of something better to do.”

Narrowing his optics, Brainstorm crossed his arms and stared back evenly at the Camien. “I’ll have you know I was upside down for at least nine hours earlier and the new perspective I gained was that I needed more time in the lab to do something with all the ideas trying to burst out of my brain processor. Time I have even less of now because of Perceptor’s new duties. Which means my processor is filling even more and even faster without giving me time to do anything with it. Soon I’ll have to delete files so I don’t lose any of my glorious ideas to the clutter!”

“How about you delete some of your centuries dedicated to the timecase to make room for a subroutine that gives you manners?” Nautica asked dryly.

“I was thinking of deleting the files that reminded me why we’re friends to begin with,” Brainstorm snapped back sarcastically.

While Nautica was halfway through a roll of her optics, they were nearly knocked out of the way by Velocity, who was truly allowing her speedster tendencies to show through as she was racing down the hall.

Thinking fast (as always), Brainstorm grabbed Nautica and kept her from being knocked over by her old sorority sister. “Whoa, what’s the lit ignition coil?” Brainstorm called out after the doctor.

More concerned, Nautica pushed off from Brainstorm and began giving chase to the green Camien. “Velocity? What’s the matter?”

“Yeesh,” Brainstorm muttered, dusting himself off after nearly being knocked over from the push. “And she thinks I need an update on my manners? What a joke.” He then looked to see that both the other bots were getting far ahead of him. He wasted no time in giving chase. “Hey, wait! I’m bored, and you’re obviously moving toward something more interesting than my perfectly crafted tools!”

Velocity, who was so frazzled Brainstorm was surprised steam was not being let off by her, looked widely toward Nautica for some kind of explanation for Brainstorm’s interruption. Fortunately the other Camien just shook her head.

“It’s, quite literally, a Brainstorm thing,” Nautica assured her. “Ignore him. What’s the emergency? Is everything okay? Is it the captain?”

Brainstorm felt less emboldened by the last question, though he wasn’t sure anymore if it was because of his concern for the truly bizarre and unnerving behavior Rodimus had put on display for the last few weeks or if it was because all of it still stemmed from the mystery that was Brainstorm’s same spell of forgetfulness and narrowly escaped death.

“Yes? No? Which one?” Velocity answered back in rapid succession.

“Um,” Nautica hesitated, obviously not expecting a full response for each of them.

Fortunately, she still had Brainstorm on her side for the time being. “Is it an emergency worth sounding the ship’s alarm? On a scale of one to ten how not okay are things? And typically we still think of Rodimus as captain, though that’s us Lost Light shenanigans veterans perspective, and I can’t speak for who you guys refer to as captain willy nilly.”

“Rodimus,” Nautica clarified, giving Brainstorm a look for overstepping to which he shrugged.

“I’d rather not alarm the ship, since I’ve been running to get away from the utter nonsense that was the doctoral team we have right now all arguing and angry and accomplishing nothing,” Velocity responded in a huff.

“Well, that is a sign that Ratchet’s back. Though I’m used to him running a tighter hospital bay,” Brainstorm said, holding his chin in thought.  

Velocity sent a look Brainstorm’s way that could freeze anyone’s joints in place before glaring forward again. “Well, personally, I’m not  used to constantly being undermined by colleagues seemingly no matter how much I prove myself and my skills on this ship,” she announced haughtily.

“That’s unfortunate, since that’s pretty much just how the Lost Light functions,” Brainstorm argued. “You wouldn’t believe how many times my genius has been brought into question by things like realistic expectations and ethical standards. Real nonsense.”

“Velocity, I understand you’re upset, and I’ll be happy to use my wrench to knock some sense into anyone who questions you as a doctor,” Nautica assured her friend while keeping pace. “But you’re not heading in the direction of the medbay or Swerve’s, which I’d think were the best options under the circumstances.”

“You’re right, I’m not heading to either,” Velocity answered, looking seriously toward the two of them. “I’m apparently heading to the shipping dock.”

“You’re leaving?” Nautica gasped.

“Well this seemingly got extreme fairly fast,” Brainstorm noted.

“Only if I can’t convince my patient not to,” Velocity answered. Once she saw the perplexed looks on the other two’s faces she nervously scratched at her cheek. “You see, while the other doctors were measuring neural nets for some reason beyond me, I knew that no matter what changes he’s undergoing, Rodimus is still Rodimus and I fully anticipate him doing something unwarranted and dangerous to all the hard work we’ve put into repairs.”

“Is it really necessary to have a medical license for that assessment? If so, I should be a surgeon general at this moment,” Brainstorm joked.

“How do you know for sure he’s going to the docks, though?” Nautica asked curiously. “That still seems like a leap of logic.”

“Oh, I put a tracker on him during his last checkup,” Velocity answered nonchalantly. “Turns out my assessment was right but I underestimated Rodimus’ patience before going utterly reckless.”

“In your defense, no one would have believed he was capable of patience or a lack of recklessness,” Brainstorm continued to rib before Nautica threw an elbow back toward his chest to get him to stop.

“Is that ethical, Velocity?” Nautica asked worriedly.

“By medical standards or by Lost Light standards?” Velocity asked just as they turned the corner and were met by Nightbeat.

“Ah, good, you’re already on your way,” the detective said before turning quickly on his heels and leading the charge toward the docks.

“Wait, how are you already in on this?” Brainstorm demanded.

“Deductive reasoning,” Nightbeat answered without even looking bak toward them. Which neither of the Camiens took offense to but Brainstorm sure did.

“As a scientist, I have to say, I don’t think that that term means what you think it means,” Brainstorm announced just before they pushed through the dock doors and were met by the very surprised looks of Drift and Rodimus who were by a very much not the Rodpod ship. Much to the shock of anyone who remotely knew Rodimus.

“What the hell,” Rodimus stated flatly more than asked.

Drift had a much harsher glare and his hands resting on the hilts of his swords. “If this is an attempt to stop us from going to Cybertron, I’m afraid you’ll need to fail your mission.”

“Huh, Cybertron. I would have originally guessed it was Eukaris you were going to investigate, but leaping straight to the source of the greater picture is a much more thought out idea,” Nightbeat said resoundly.

“You’re not going anywhere without medical support,” Velocity said, waggling a finger at a perplexed looking Rodimus. “I have put far too much work into your recovery for you to halfway through it decide to throw yourself in danger without backup.”

Still looking very confused, Rodimus glanced toward Drift who seemed to only share his confusion with a shrug.

“And I’m part of the Rod Squad, so consider me offended that I wasn’t asked to come along to begin with,” Nautica announced, walking toward the ship.

Night beat and Velocity were not far behind, though Nautica did stop long enough to look back at Brainstorm curiously. “Are you coming, too?”

“Absolutely,” Brainstorm said, coming forward. “You know how bored I have been here. And let’s be honest, if I’m left without you three to annoy consistently, I’ll just be looking for answers to these questions myself.”

“What about you getting arrested,” Rodimus asked Brainstorm critically. “You’re supposed to not set pede on Cybertron aren’t you?”

“I don’t think any of us are,” Drift reminded Rodimus.

“Looks like we’re all lawbreakers together,” Brainstorm concluded. “What else is new?”

Rattrap could all but feel the scorn being sent his way as he ventured through the capital’s halls.

It went without saying that he had never really been popular, being the voice of Starscream, Supreme Ruler or not, did little to help anybot’s image of course. But there was a uniquely traitorous ring to the murmurs that surrounded a former Autobot who sided with the most hated of former Decepticons.

Being an essential source of information was the only power that Rattrap could use to keep himself alive in the current environment on Cybertron. And yet he was proving time and again to be woefully inaccurate.

The entire Council of Worlds doubting and eventually verbally siding against his testimony despite him being among their ranks most certainly didn’t help matters there. 

As such, even Rattrap’s usefulness to Starscream himself was being brought into question. And if he wasn’t useful to Starscream then, well, it was questionable how much use someone who knew too many secrets for his own good could be at all.

Being summoned to the laboratories just beneath the capital building by Starscream out of the blue, after a much noted distancing between them, seemed ominous. And it would have been an excellent time to let some friends know where he was going and who for, if Rattrap had had any friends. But alone and with only his caution to look after him, Rattrap scurried to his summoning.

A task which led to one of the biggest processor halts in his long lifetime.

“You, uh… called for me, Supreme Ruler…?” Rattrap asked with uncharacteristic timidness, leaning through partially opened doors and seeing the familiar frame of Starscream himself. A sight that did not take his attention for long as Starscream was — much to the rat’s relief — far from being alone.

The Prime was there, intimidating and large as ever, and beside him was Delegate Windblade which seemed like an obvious companion though somehow it still managed to take the beastformer by surprise considering all the wild news going around.

Not too far from them were the ever busied scientists of Wheeljack and Jetfire, scanning somebots in a transmatter scanner which obscured Rattrap’s view of them. Not that he needed to know exactly who the other bots were to know that he was completely surrounded by witnesses so the likelihood of getting the brunt end of Starscream’s anger at the moment seemed highly unlikely. So… probably not indefinite prison sentencing?

“Rattrap,” Starscream called, only tilting his head back slightly to acknowledge his right hand bot’s entrance. “You have been in some hot oil for the last few days in thanks to incorrectly identifying your attackers as some fellow Cybertronians, correct?”

“Well, I never called them attackers per se, just said they were painted in a whole hubabaloo like part of those crazy cultists and seemed to be working on this Error-screw-loose’s side ’til the very last minute when they pulled my aft out of the proverbial energy fire.” He hesitated, remembering that the conclusiveness of the description had been his exact undoing before the Council. “Eh… allegedly.”

Starscream didn’t seem moved nor did he seem altogether that curious about Rattrap’s questionable story. His full attention seemed to be on the scanners.

“If you saw these bots again, could you identify them?” Starscream asked sharply.

Still not catching on, Rattrap shrugged. “Why sure. But last time I did, everybody got their circuits in a twist ‘cuz they didn’t like what I had to say,” he reminded them all. When he noticed Optimus and Windblade’s glares, he flinched back slightly. “Eh, no offense or nothing to present company, of course.”

“Scan’s are complete,” Jetfire announced, sounding baffled. “And if I didn’t see the results myself… Well…”

“I know, I wouldn’t believe it either,” Wheeljack agreed, turning the transmatter off and allowing it to open with a hiss. “Starscream, they’re telling the complete truth, just like Windblade was. Spark signatures, energon grades — the whole kit and kibble’s exactly what they say. They’re who they say they are.”

“Who says? What’s going on?” Rattrap asked before stepping all the way through the door.

When the doors opened and the two bots stepped out from the scanners, Rattrap’s jaw nearly unhinged itself to drop far enough to express his disbelief.

Standing before them was none other than Windblade and Rodimus — the exact same black and red paint jobs that Rattrap had seen on them in the sewers before they pulled their puff-of-smoke disappearing act — the same wear and tear on their large frames. The same everything from what Rattrap had seen before.

Just to make sure he could believe his own optics, Rattrap glanced back to the part of the room where Windblade stood with the Prime, then he looked to where she stood with Rodimus. There were differences, but they were both obviously the same Camien and they were both obviously existing in the same room at the same time.

“Holy Pit,” Rattrap gasped, grabbing the edges of his head. “What is going on?”

“Supposedly time travel,” Starscream answered sourly, crossing his arms. “I despise the concept.”

“Yeah, well, I despise the practice of it,” Rodimus spat back at him before looking back to the scientists. “Since you’re done proving who we are I’d appreciate having it back now, thank you.”

“Right,” Wheeljack answered, going to the side and returning with, to Rattrap’s complete shock, looked like a completed Matrix, and then timidly handed it to Rodimus.

The supposed time traveler then opened his chest — a far broader space than the Rodimus who had been with them in the medical wing just a short time ago — and placed the holy relic in place like it had always belonged there. And once it was locked, he closed his chest as if the maneuver had been nothing, letting out a quick vent of relief once it was done.

“You still have not disclosed how the Matrix is brought back to its whole,” Optimus Prime then said lowly. “Considering that currently mine still remains in parts after… Rodimus told me he used up the half which I had given him.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Rodimus-apparent promised. When he received looks of disbelief he held up his hands. “Optimus is the one who told — er, tells — me the story someday so… I have confidence in you, Big Bot.”

The red-and-black Windblade then placed a hand on the chest of Rodimus to stop him and looked to the rest of the room intently. “I know there are probably many questions which you all have for us, but we both have to be fairly cautious in what we’re ready to tell you of your futures or not. Even what we’re doing right now is of great risk and only because we are filling in the roles as I remember them being three million years ago.” She then shared a long glance with her past self, which was just about enough to make Rattrap’s optics spin out of socket.

Rattrap shook his head. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s take it back a step or two here, folks,” he called out, stepping forward. “You’re wanting to tell us that you’re time travelers from three million years in the future? Here to… what? Fulfill a literal self-fulfilling prophecy? Excuse me for having a bit of a difficult time swallowing this.”

Rodimus-apparent crossed his arms and looked annoyed at Rattrap. “This is why I didn’t want to save him, Windblade.”

“But you already did save him, Prime,” she reminded him.

At that the Rodimus-apparent groaned and rolled back his head, giving Rattrap a good look at the deep, dark scarring on the right side of his faceplate — matching up almost exactly with what injuries the Rodimus on trial had shown.

“See, this is exactly what I meant about hating time traveling,” he professed.

“What the Pit,” Rattrap continued in sheer amazement.

“Enough of all this,” Starscream said sourly, pointing toward the time displaced mechs. “Rattrap, do these bots seem like a closer match to the ones you saw within Error’s cult down in the sewers?”

Full alert, Rattrap looked wide eyed from the two mystery mechs then to Starscream before nodding rapidly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! I’d bet my spark on it, Lord Starscream. This is them! No doubt!”

“That’s what I needed to hear,” Starscream said loftily. “Windblade — our Windblade — you’re off the hook officially. I want these two arrested, unless you have an objection to that, Prime.”

“I do,” both Optimus and the red-and-black Rodimus said at the same time.

The two then looked awkwardly at each other as if they were utterly startled by the other answering.

“You can’t do that,” the time displaced Windblade announced, walking toward Starscream. “The fewer bots who know about the distortion of time, the better. You must understand, us being in this time is a great risk to all of Cybertron and the Council of Worlds’ futures. It is not a decision we made lightly or,” her eyes glanced back to her younger self, “without some precedent, as you can imagine.”

“If it’s so dangerous to interrupt time as we know it, then why do it at all?” Jetfire asked.

“Oh, just felt the need to make a few failed experimental offshoot universes in my Primacy. I missed doing it on the Lost Light so much,” Rodimus answered in full sarcasm.

“Because your current problems are not entirely of your own time,” Windblade answered more accurately. “They’re of ours… We are not the only one who have interfered with your time by going back ourselves. The one you all know as Error is using the technology we have to try and enforce his views of religious Primal Purity on the past and prevent the Peaceful Reconciliation of our time. To prevent the Exchange and thus prevent the diversification of the Cybertronian races again.”

The current Windblade put a hand to her spark chamber. “All of those things… they sound wonderful… Why would anyone not want them?”

“Well, world peace comes at too high of a price when you’re a bigot,” Rodimus declared flatly.

“I have yet to hear a single reason I should not go through with arresting the both of you for endangering all of space-time and apparently providing technology to a terrorist organization,” Starscream said haughtily. “In other words, what are you proposing to do for me and my Cybertron.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be obvious to you all now,” the older Windblade sighed, putting a thoughtful hand to her chin. “But it’s very much within your interests that we stay here, Lord Starscream.”

Current Windblade physically recoiled. “Did I just willingly call him Lord Starscream?” she asked rhetorically.

“One of Error’s main objectives beyond just destroying the line of succession of the Primacy is to destroy the leader responsible for the new Golden Age of Cybertron,” Rodimus continued, though the look on his face made it seem as though every word was painful. “That means… well, it means killing you, Starscream. Assassinating you will prevent you from accidentally falling into world peace.”

Rattrap joined the entire room at looking at Starscream in utter shock, though no face was more stunned than Starscream’s own.

“Me?” he got out before a sly smile came to his lips. “Do tell.”

Drift stayed in the back of the ship, allowing the others to handle navigating them to Cybertron and past any of security measures or blockades that Starscream and his Council of Worlds might have had prepared for them. By staying in the back, he stayed closer to Rodimus and was able to keep an eye on his closest friend and see the lackluster glow of his optics as Rodimus scratched at the temporary paint on his bare replacement shell.

He was still himself, down to his spark. Drift could feel Rodimus’ field no matter how much he tried to assert that he was Hot Rod again.

What others often forgot about them was that Drift had been there with the Wreckers when they had Hot Rod among their ranks, and he had been there after the Primacy itself was saved by Rodimus’ selfless actions and Optimus renamed him from that day forward.

In those moments, so much unlike any time before or since, Drift had felt a complete change in Rodimus’ spark signature and onew that the feeling he had spent so much of his life looking for was there. That the Prime he knew would lead them into their Golden Age, that caused the same vibrations of his spark as the great swords of the Circle of Light managed, was in the tiny speedster from Nyon. Even if no one else in the cosmos could see it yet.

Which made it just that much more painful to see his friend in the confused, angry, and hurt state that he was in.

Looking around to make sure that the others were a good enough distance away to not overhear, Drift glanced back to Rodimus more seriously and interrupted their silence. “Why Nyon?” he asked lowly.

“It’s on my mind,” Rodimus replied shortly.

“That could be Shadowplay,” Drift warned cautiously. “It could be a trap. It could be anything.”

“If it is, then that’s just more of a reason for us to have to go,” Rodimus answered. “Because it’s on my mind. Because it still makes me feel sick, like energy went bad in my fuel tank or my coolant ran dry. Because I feel sick about it, but I don’t feel that way toward any other bad things I’ve done.” His optics focused on Drift’s face. There was something haunting about how one eye remained untouched while the other was wide and circular without form thanks to the damage inflicted on Rodimus’ faceplate. “And I think I’ve done a lot of things to feel guilty about but don’t. Haven’t I?”

That was, without a doubt, a loaded question, but Drift was not one to let himself go untested.

“There is not a single mech among all of us who couldn’t say the same, Rodim… Hot Rod,” Drift replied gently. “Autobot, Decepticon — By Primus, it seems the more I learn of our colonies and their worlds the more damaged and unclean their own hands seem to be in matters, too. We wear the scars of a race bent on war and disarray. It is unthinkable that any of us could know peace. Let alone within ourselves.”

Rodimus looked off again, scratching at his chipped paint. “Why have you stayed friends with me?” he asked coldly. “Why would anyone still follow me? You all tell me that my processor’s got its wires all crossed and wrong now, but whenever I say that I’ve caused death and destruction, no one can argue with me. At that point, he even cares about the specifics of exactly what I am or am not guilty of. And why would someone I’ve been so terrible to feel they can still be my friend and expect anything different whatsoever?”

A little surprised, Drift tilted his helm. “You mean you… feel guilty about me?” he asked.

“About as much as Nyon,” he confessed, squeezing his good hand tightly into a fist. “Though… it doesn’t feel as new or fresh as the sickness with Nyon.”

Drift shifted, never losing sight of Rodimus as he reached out and placed a firm hand on Rodimus’ good shoulder. “What you’re feeling? The way it makes you sick when you know something’s wrong? That’s the reason that even though you make mistakes, even though sometimes it hurts, we believe in you. We believe in you because those mistakes give you a chance to learn and to understand all of us and our mistakes better than any leader Cybertron’s had before.”

Rodimus finally looked back at Drift. “Before… before all of this? Did… Did I at least apologize—“

They both lurched forward as the ship began to break through the atmosphere of Cybertron. The conversation had to wait.

“We’re coming in on Nyon, Rod—Hot— Sir!” Nautica announced from the front of the ship.

“Using my shortcut!” Brainstorm asserted.

After a moment, Drift vented sharply and squeezed Rodimus’ shoulder again before getting up. “Do you have any specific idea what we’re looking for at Nyon?” he asked his leader.

“That sort of preplanning isn’t usually how I do things,” Rodimus answered, accepting Drift’s hand to help him get on his feet.

“For future reference,” Drift chuckled, “the honesty is a good change. You should keep it up.”

“Wow,” Velocity muttered, opening the hatch and looking out into the rusted, old ruins of the once prosperous city. “It’s… completely gutted.”

“I never saw it before the War, it was always like this to me,” Brainstorm replied, following the Camiens off the ship.

“I visited it once,” Nightbeat told them, scratching at his cheek. “It honestly wasn’t much back then either. But it was filled to the optics in peddlers and shock jocks.”

Years since his last charge and Drift still couldn’t help but flinch at the slang.

“They were all still Cybertronians,” Rodimus declared lowly as he followed the crew off the ship. “They were lives. And they deserved better than—“

Drift was following Rodimus off the ship closely, protectively even, which made his view of the event all the more stunning and unbelievable.

The moment Rodimus’ pede hit the grounds of Nyon, there was a shift in the energy around the whole abandoned city. There was an enormous surge — like the plates themselves were opening up to the damaged mech. it was a distantly familiar sensation to what Drift had witnessed before, though it had been ages ago, at the very earliest stages of the Decepticon rebellion.

Then the ground opened up to a slow, but growing burn of energy and light, miles wide, unbelievable and real. Something that hadn’t been seen in ages.

“It’s…” Velocity gasped.

“A Hot Spot,” Drift completed. He looked at Rodimus in wonder. “You… you were sensing a Hot Spot. Somehow you knew—“

“No, I didn’t,” Rodimus tried to defend, though Drift could not imagine why he would be reluctant to accept the praise.

When Rodimus turned around, he was surrounded by concerned looks from everyone who had traveled with them from the Lost Light, and it was the sort of thing that he obviously was not interested in. His face turned into a snarl and he vicious waved everyone off.

“It’s not the reason we’re here!” he growled out.

Drift looked on in amazement. “Rodimus—“

“It’s Hot Rod!” Rodimus spat.

“Sir,” Velocity interjected. “You just used your right arm again! You were able to move it, the neural net hasn’t been damaged after all! Look! It must have been psychosomatic!”

“Psycho-what? What are you talking about?” Rodimus demanded before glancing down to the once more loosely hanging arm at his side. Rather than disappointment or outrage however, a look of complete terror came across his face as he saw that from the palm up, his arm was producing a red hot flame. Instinctively, he tried to back away from his own appendage with a yell of shock and disgust, but rather than get him anywhere, he merely smacked into Drift’s side.

Without a second’s thought, Drift caught onto Rodimus’ shoulders and held him up. “It’s fine, just concentrate. Think of turning it off.”

“I-I can’t,” Rodimus stammered.

“That’s okay, you usually burn through your fuel fairly fast when you use your outlier ability,” Drift reminded him calmly. “We’ll just use some of our reserve energon once it’s out.” Drift then looked intently toward Velocity. “We do have supplies of additional energon, don’t we?”

“What kind of doctor do you think I am? Of course we do,” Velocity said with a long suffering sigh of annoyance. “Even when Ratchet and First Aid aren’t around, I swear.”

Brainstorm held a hand to his chin. “That’s fascinating, I never knew that about Rodimus’ outlier ability. I bet you if I could run a few tests on him using it I could fix up whatever it is that’s causing the overabundance of fuel loss.”

“But why is he suddenly scared of fire?” Nightbeat asked. “Is it something to do with Nyon—“

“What about this Hot Spot? What are we supposed to do with all these sparks? They need formation, we need to call someone — this is a new generation of our species!” Nautica tried to remind them all.

All at once Rodimus pushed off from Drift and slung his arm again, finally causing the flames to go out. “Everyone shut up I’m right here! And it’s not me causing this Hot Spot, I didn’t come here because I sensed it, we’re here because… I remember it — this is where I fragged it. I sent everything to straight to the Pits!”

Drift felt his spark clench. “Rodimus, don’t say that. I wasn’t there at Nyon — none of us were, and none of us can pretend to know what it must have been like for you. But you can’t be guilty about a decision you had no choice in. Believe me, I know about rightful guilt. The choices I’ve made… what I live to redeem are beyond anything you’ve done—“

“Drift, shut up!” Rodimus snapped angrily, looking at him wildly. “I’m not talking… I am talking about what I did to Nyon, but I’m also remembering… I remember what I did that caused the war, that broke everything.”

Everyone grew silent in their shared confusion, a few glances wavering between each other. And Drift was no exception. He looked at his friend with complete and utter befuddlement.

“Rodimus, there was already a war before Nyon. You were one of the Freedom Fighters, you should know—“ Nightbeat began.

“No, I started the War,” Rodimus continued, looking at everyone with an expression of shock of his own. “I led him… I showed him where and… It was me. I should’ve guard it, it wasn’t ready to be found by anyone. It shouldn’t have been used the way it was… and I…” He vented loudly and let his shoulders slump, almost in resignation. “I… I led Orion Pax to the Matrix of Leadership. I restarted the true Primal Line again. It wasn’t time. It wasn’t what Primus wanted.”

The babbling was all but incoherent to Drift and from the looks the others were giving, it was likewise incoherent to them, but a distant, loud clap seemed to disagree.

They all turned, Drift with his swords at the draw. And to Drift’s dismay they were met by the large, looming image of the terrorist who had been on all the screens of Cybertron during the attacks, the mech responsible for attacking their captain and crew.

The large mech Error was clapping, his red eyes boring down on Rodimus in particular.

“At last, my message is interpreted,” Error announced lowly as his cultish members began revealing themselves from hiding as well.

“How did they hide their EMF fields and spark signatures from us?” Drift growled out.

“I don’t know. I’ve been working on some kind of dampener that would help cloaking more but I’ve barely been able to tinker with it thanks to my lack of lab access!” Brainstorm announced.

“You,” Rodimus snarled savagely. “I remember you.”

“You should be starting to remember a lot, my Prime,” Error said with a strangely soft tone, almost as if some remote fondness existed between them.

“Your… Prime?” Nautica asked in confusion.

“Rodimus Prime was my Prime, before I saw Primus’ guidance for myself,” Error announced turning his hands over so the palms faced upward, measured flames burned out from them. “Now I shall make sure you will be my Prime no more.”

“What the hell is going on?” Brainstorm squawked.

“Someone teach this guy how to keep his tenses straight,” Nautica attempted to say in light humor.

“No, don’t you get it?” Nightbeat asked, as if that meant anything to the rest of them. “The tense confusion, the technology beyond even our own, the way he and his cult members seem to disappear and reappear at random?”

“Spell it out, Nightbeat!” Drift ordered, gripping his swords harder as he tried to estimate their odds.

“These guys are from the future. Or a future where Rodimus is a Prime!” Nightbeat exclaimed.

“A future that shall never be again!” Error roared before charging for them.

#writing #tf fic #TF: Twisted Legacy #Brainstorm #Rattrap #Drift #Nautica #Velocity #Nightbeat #Rodimus #Windblade #Optimus Prime #Starscream #Jetfire #Wheeljack

[tylerhoechlns]

Sterek Recs: Bookmarked (1/?)

I’ve been lacking with my posts, specifically my sterek recs, so I decided I should post all 1,163 (and counting) fics that I have bookmarked on AO3 into a few separate posts.

WARNING: I have been bookmarking almost every sterek fic I have ever read since the summer of 2015. Some of these fics may include side pairings or briefly include Derek and/or Stiles with someone else. I tried to add some tags and warnings here but PLEASE read the tags and or warnings on the fic itself if this is something you do not like. All of these fics are completed. 

How to Win an Argument Without Really Trying by sffan (Explicit - 2.2k)

It started with a kiss.

Well, actually, it started with an argument.

— Tags and Warnings: Underage, First Time, Porn Without Plot

Blushing Pretty by the_deep_magic (Explicit - 3.2k)

Tonight’s the rare occasion when he gets to take Stiles apart, piece by piece, and Stiles – annoying, mouthy, brilliant, gorgeous Stiles – lets him. 

— Tags and Warnings: Porn Without Plot, Established Relationship, Light BDSM

🔒 The One In Which Derek's Dick Disappears by bleep0bleep (Explicit - 3.3k)

Derek wakes up one afternoon without a particular appendage.

Stiles thinks someone left a very realistic looking dildo in his bed.

— Tags and Warnings: Mildly Dubious Consent, Public Sex, Telepathic Sex

Muffins As A Declaration Of Intent by JenNova (Explicit - 3.7k)

“Top or bottom?” Stiles asks, off to Derek's right.

“Bottom,” Derek says automatically, not really looking at him. “Wait, what?”

— Tags and Warnings: Porn Without Plot

Stiles, why is Derek Hale passed out on our front porch? by marguerite_26, mothlights (Explicit, 4.4k)

Stiles doesn't hear the knock on his front door, but he figures there must have been one, because now his dad's calling out to him,

"Stiles, do you know why Derek Hale just passed out on our front porch?"

Stiles freezes, carton of milk half way to his mouth. He looks around the empty room, wondering if it has any answers. Derek Hale just passed out on his front porch -- sounds like one of the signs of the coming apocalypse.

— Tags and Warnings: Spark Stiles, Magical Bond, Hurt/Comfort

With Warmest Regards (Affectionately Yours) by asocialfauxpas (fuzzytomato) (Mature - 5.9k)

House Hale and House Stilinski form an alliance through the betrothal of Prince Derek and Prince Stiles. Having only met once before, they write letters to get to know one another.

— Tags and Warnings: AU: Royalty, Alive Hale Family, background/side pairings. 

Intro To Art For NonMajors by otatop (N/A - 13k)

Derek has one more class to pass before he can finish his degree but he can't bring himself to give a shit about art. He can, however, give a shit about his professor.

— Tags and Warnings: AU: University, Student!Derek/Teacher!Stiles, Artist!Stiles

an exaltation of larks by llassah (Explicit - 25k)

There are times when he feels as if they could fall into bed together, easy as breathing. If Stiles were not highborn, if he were an omega without connections, Derek would be sorely tempted. As it is, he resists. Derek wants, he yearns, but he resists. Still, the sight of Stiles in his cot is enough to test him, even now that it is familiar. At the end of each lambing season, he sleeps for a week, worn down by months of hard work, of relentless struggle. He doesn’t know how he’ll feel by the time Stiles leaves, how he’ll feel after long days and longer nights spent resisting the insistent tug of Stiles’s scent and the inclinations of his own foolish heart.

All Derek wants is to get through the lambing season with his body and spirit intact. He had thought that the blizzards would be the main danger, not a highborn omega with beautiful eyes and a stubborn streak.

— Tags and Warnings: AU: Historical, AU: Werewolves are Known, AU: Medievalesque Omega!Stiles, Alpha!Derek, Non-Graphic Torture, Mutual Pining

Nothing Short Of Perfect by GotTheSilver (Explicit, 27k)

In which Derek and Stiles are made aware of their potential and have to make a choice about what their relationship will be.

“Let me get this straight,” his dad says. “You’re telling me a witch told Derek and yourself that you could be destined to be together and now Derek will be going to college with you?”

Stiles shrugs, resting his hands on his legs to stop himself from fidgeting. “That’s about it, yep.”

— Tags and Warnings: University, Soul bonds, Getting Together.

By Any Other Name by entanglednow (Explicit - 33K)

He doesn't know his name, he doesn't know who he is, and neither does the werewolf he's on the run with. But he's pretty sure they hunt monsters, because they seem to be really good at it.

— Tags and Warnings: Angst, Amnesia, Violence

Strike Softly (Away From The Body) by qhuinn (tekla) (Explicit - 34k)

Derek is a bodyguard and Stiles his spoiled, resistant client.

— Tags and Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers

The Worst Thing I Ever Did by RemainNameless (Explicit, 41k)

Stiles would say his relationship with Derek is about fifteen percent empty threats, thirty percent sass, ten percent avoiding violence together, and five percent eyebrows. If anyone asked, he would say the remaining forty percent is mutual orgasms.

It’s a good thing no one ever asks.

— Tags and Warning: AU: Canon Divergence, post 3x03, Underage, Canon Typical Violence, Porn With Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Dubious Consent, D/s themes, Non-Negotiated Kink

 Traces by standinginanicedress (Explicit - 44k)

Derek snaps his fingers and glares into Stiles' eyes. “You say you're not the same, but – there you fucking go, acting just like yourself.”

Stiles bristles. “Oh, right. Because you know me so fucking well, don't you?”

“Better than you seem to think,” he mutters under his breath in response, and Stiles gets even more incensed.

“Pushing me up against walls, shoving my head into steering wheels,” he shrugs his shoulders, glares, “some real heart to hearts we've had!”

“Holding me up in eight feet of water when I was paralyzed, nearly cutting my arm off for me to save my life. Doesn't seem so fucking shallow to me, Stiles.”

— Tags and Warnings: Underage (17), Angst, Body Dysmorphia, PTSD, Kate Argent

our lives are changing lanes by grimm (Explicit - 47k)

There's a lot of screaming going on inside the first house Stiles visits. He isn't really worried, because it sounds like kids, but then the door opens and hi, says his dick, because the dude in front of him is gorgeous, built like a god with a face like thunder. Stiles wants to lick that solid jaw line. Hold the fuck on, says his cop brain, because the dude's got kids hanging all over him; one's on his back, skinny legs looped around his waist, and another two hanging off one arm, toes barely brushing the ground. There's a tubby toddler clinging to his leg like a koala, and he's got a baby tucked into the crook of the one arm that doesn’t have kids hanging off it. Stiles' mouth drops open.

"How many of those kids did you kidnap?" he asks before he can wrangle his brain into submission.

The man gives him a look that says what the fuck is wrong with you and snaps, "You think I'd subject myself to this on purpose?"

"Oooh," says one of the kids hanging off his arm. "I'm telling Mom."

— Tags and Warnings: AU: Werewolves Are Known, Deputy!Stiles, Single Parent Derek, Past Kate/Derek

☆ Sense of Home by siny  (Explicit - 53k)

Home can be a place, but it can also be a person.

After the events with the Nemeton, Stiles starts suffering the consequences of their sacrifice. A journey he attempts to make on his own, but only becomes worse with every step he takes. In the process he seeks comfort in an unexpected place and it draws him toward an unexpected person.

— Tags and Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Major (Fake) Character Death, Angst, Slow Build, First Time, Happy Ending, Background/Side pairings. 

Move A Mountain by ZainClaw (Explicit - 69k)

Stiles goes camping with his friends in New Mexico after graduation where they befriend a biker gang led by Derek: a guy whom Stiles can’t decide if he will be either relieved or devastated to never see again once their week is up.

— Tags and Warnings: Smut, Angst, Biker!Derek, background/side pairings

Occam's Razor by MissAnnThropic (Explicit - 74k)

When Stiles goes to sleep, he’s a junior in high school. He wakes up in a world where he’s twenty-four and married to Derek Hale. Stiles just can’t seem to catch a break.

— Tags and Warnings: Angst

☆ Cornerstone by Vendelin (Explicit - 83k)

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.

— Tags and Warnings: Blind!Stiles, Marine!Derek, PTSD

☆ No Homo by RemainNameless (Explicit - 84k)

Stiles' sophomore year starts something like this: 3 FourLokos + 1 peer-pressuring cat - 1 best bro to end all best bros = 1 Craigslist ad headline that reads "str8 dude - m4m - strictly platonic". Derek is the fool who replies.

— Tags and Warnings: AU: University, Internalized Homophobia, Recreational Drug Use (Marijuana), Alcohol, Lots of Safe and Unsafe Sex

🔒 Shatterproof by pyes (Explicit - 90k)

The first time that Derek kisses Stiles, they're in the Jeep—which is sideways—while they're trapped in an overpass collapse.

It's the second time when things really get scary.

— Tags and Warnings: Post 3b Pack, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Canon Typical Violence/Gore. 

I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek by DiscontentedWinter (Explicit - 127k)

Stiles finds a baby on the porch.

It looks exactly like him.

Well, this is awkward.

— Tags and Warnings: Underage, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Domestic Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Death, Pack Feels, Abduction, Threats of Rape/Non-Con

Little Wild Animal by DiscontentedWinter (Explicit - 131k)

Derek Hale finds a feral human on his pack's property. Humans are supposed to be extinct. But then, Stiles is full of surprises.

— Tags and Warnings: Underage, Feral!Stiles, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background/Side pairings. Fics 2&3 of sterek aren’t majority about Sterek.

#sterek #sterek fic rec #sterek fic #sterek rec #eternalsterek #my rec #eternal sterek

[thisdaynews]

I Watched 20 Hours of Robert Mueller Testifying. Here’s What Congress Would Be In For.

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/i-watched-20-hours-of-robert-mueller-testifying-heres-what-congress-would-be-in-for/

I Watched 20 Hours of Robert Mueller Testifying. Here’s What Congress Would Be In For.

The first thing you notice during a marathon spree of watching Robert Mueller testify before Congress is his voice. This is not because his voice is striking—although it is, in a way, a crisp and direct tenor—but because you’re hearing it at all.

For two years, the special counsel running the Russia probe, the man at the center of the most talked-about and speculated-upon American investigation in decades, has said not a word in a public forum. His team’s official pronouncements came via indictments and courtroom arguments, as well as a couple of on-the-record statements pushing back against media reports or other critics. Neither Mueller nor any of his prosecutors gave an interview, and Mueller himself was spied only occasionally, at the airport or walking down a Washington, D.C. street, or dining with his wife at his go-to casual restaurant, never speaking to the public.

Story Continued Below

That’s likely going to change soon: Mueller has been called before the House Judiciary and Intelligence committees, who want to grill him on the findings from his lengthy investigations into Russian interference in the 2016 presidential election and potential obstruction of justice by President Donald Trump. Democrats and the special counsel’s representatives have been haggling for weeks to set a date to commence the blockbuster hearings, and the expectation is that he will appear by next month.

So what can we expect? It’s impossible to know how Mueller will respond to questions Democratic and GOP lawmakers are teeing up for him. But when it comes to the character at the center of the drama, there’s actually some evidence for how it’s going to go. Over his most recent 12 years in public life, as the FBI director under two presidential administrations, Mueller testified more than 50 times before Congress. He was hauled before a joint House-Senate panel to talk about intelligence gathering and counterterrorism surrounding the events of Sept. 11, 2001; he presented plans after the terrorist attacks for a sweeping FBI reorganization; and a dozen years later, during his 2013 retirement hearings, discussed everything from the Boston Marathon bombings to a suite of controversial government surveillance programs. They’re all archived on C-SPAN—more than 140 hours of video footage starring the man Americans have been waiting to hear from.

I watched more than 20 hours of that footage, a representative sample of big and small hearings on a range of issues spanning the George W. Bush and Obama administrations, before both friendly and hostile lawmakers.

When you watch the clips, the images feel immediately familiar: Cable news has been showing the same Mueller footage on a loop since his appointment in May 2017. But it’s always with the sound turned off. That’s a mistake. Listening to Mueller speak helps pierce some of the mythology that’s seemed to only grow in the absence of any news conferences or public speaking appearances while he’s been the special counsel. What do they show us? And what does Congress need to know as it goes toe-to-toe with one of the most respected, bulldog law-enforcement officials in the nation?

Mueller has worked complex issues before. A lot.

The Russia investigation feels totally unique, and in some ways it is. But there’s a reason then-Deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein picked Mueller for the job in the first place: He’s a specialist in high-level, complex investigations.

Mueller took over as FBI director one week before 9/11, and his first months on the job were dominated by an examination of the missed warning signs that led to the terrorist attacks. He spearheaded the bureau’s reorganization from a straight-up law enforcement agency to a national security organization. And he implemented controversial intelligence-gathering and surveillance policies in the face of serious civil liberties concerns.

He’s also dealt with complicated matters involving Russia. Mueller spoke during his Senate confirmation hearing in 2001 about helping the FBI redeem its reputation after several “serious and highly publicized problems” that included agent Robert Hanssen being outed as a Soviet and Russian mole. A decade later in June 2011, Mueller testified about the persistent threat of Russian espionage, noting the arrest the previous summer of 10 Russian spies who’d been living for years as sleeper agents in the U.S.

That fall, when asked which nation states are the “biggest actors” in espionage against the U.S, Mueller replied, “It’d be hard to pick out some. I think it’s been raised in other hearings, but you have countries such as Russia and China, others, Iran perhaps.”

He’s also cautious when it comes to investigations, relying on his past experience as a federal prosecutor in Boston, Washington and San Francisco and leading the Justice Department’s criminal division. Answering a question in 2001 from then-Sen. Russ Feingold (D-Wis.) about how he goes about not infringing on anyone’s First Amendment rights when conducting politically sensitive probes, Mueller said he thinks of investigations very conservatively—not as gotcha campaigns, but as “a series of steps” to determine “whether or not you’ve got sufficient reason to go forward to the next step.”

Mueller has thought about targeting presidents before.

With the Bill Clinton impeachment saga not very far back in the rearview mirror, senators in 2001 pressed Mueller in his nomination hearing to talk about how he’d handle a high-level criminal probe in which the chief executive himself was the target. “Would you, as FBI director, exercise the authority to withhold information from the president on national security matters, because the president was the subject of a criminal investigation?” asked then-Sen. Arlen Specter, a Pennsylvania Republican at the time.

“There may be an occasion where it’s possible, yes,” Mueller replied.

And then there’s this remarkable exchange from the same hearing with then-Sen. Jeff Sessions (R-Ala.), who asked Mueller whether he’d be willing to use the independence that comes with a 10-year term leading the FBI to go around the Justice Department brass “if something serious occurs and there has been a threat to the orderly operation of justice.”

“I do not exclude the possibility that the circumstances would be such that I would feel it necessary to circumvent the ordinary course of proceedings by, which would be to go to the attorney general first before I made perhaps a disclosure to Congress,” Mueller answered. “But I am not precluding the possibility that given the necessary independence of the bureau in investigation, that there might not come a time where one seeks an alternative where one believes that political pressure is being brought to bear on the investigative process.

“That may be somewhere else in the executive, beyond the attorney general,” Mueller added. “It may be Congress, but I would look and explore every option if I believed that the FBI was being pressured for political reasons. And if that were the situation as described here, I would explore other alternatives or a variety of alternatives in order to make certain that justice was done.”

Watching that response—cautiously worded as it is—is striking in light of more recent events: Mueller’s appointment happened only after Sessions himself, as Trump’s attorney general, had to recuse himself from Russia-related matters because of political conflicts.

He’s well-mannered and disciplined, but can’t quite fix his tie.

Mueller attended boarding school with John Kerry, and later served four years in Vietnam with the Marine Corps, and both kinds of training come across in his physical presence. He’s quite polite, and typically makes direct eye contact with his questioners. He thanks staffers who bring him a glass of water.

He can also be funny and, despite the seriousness of a job that required chasing down terrorists and all manner of bad guys, Mueller does crack a smile. “I’m sitting here, that’s all I can say,” Mueller said to laughter during his late July 2001 Senate confirmation hearing when asked how he did after taking a polygraph required for FBI managers.

Mueller’s preferred wardrobe—dark suit, red or blue tie and always a white shirt—has been closely scrutinized, even admired in the two years since he took the special counsel job. He frequently wears his watch like a military man, with the face on the inside of his wrist. He rarely diverges from that signature put-together look, but in almost every appearance I watched, his tie is slightly askew, with a noticeable cockeyed tilt to the left.

Mueller does not suffer fools gladly.

Mueller can also get testy, and clearly doesn’t like to be interrupted when he’s answering a question. And he won’t hesitate to correct members of Congress, as evidenced by a heated exchange in 2013 with Rep. Louie Gohmert (R-Texas), who pressed repeatedly why the FBI had not checked out a tip that the brothers responsible for the Boston Marathon bombing frequented a local mosque. “Your facts are not altogether … ” Mueller said as the two men talked over each other, before the FBI director added a moment later that his agents had been there and spoken to “imams several months beforehand.”

As Gohmert pressed on, Mueller drew a line. “I’ve answered the question, sir,” he said.

Mueller can also be frank. He’ll admit it when he doesn’t know an answer. And he’ll be brutally honest too, even when the response he’s giving doesn’t sound very politically appealing.

“Well, it depends on your definition of accountable, but I would say, I would say that I have not held somebody accountable in the sense of either disciplining or firing somebody,” Mueller told then-Sen. Carl Levin (D-Mich.) during a marathon joint bicameral hearing in 2002 over five hours long examining the 9/11 terrorist attacks.

None of that may prepare us for this week’s hearings.

Mueller is a famously by-the-book operator, and many congressional insiders expect him to stick to the script from his investigation and not elaborate much beyond the 400-plus pages in his report.

But Mueller also has access to information that even Congress hasn’t seen, and that means he could really make news at any moment. So his upcoming hearings likely won’t follow the usual playbook.

“This will be a very different hearing from how Congress typically works,” said Ted Kalo, the former Democratic general counsel to the House Judiciary Committee. While members generally have a good idea what a witness’ answers will be to their questions, all bets are off for the special counsel. “Here, no one knows what will happen from minute to minute in terms of Mueller’s answers,” Kalo said.

“He’s going to bring the report to life,” added Rep. Ted Lieu, a California Democrat on the Judiciary Committee, when I asked what he was expecting from a Mueller hearing.

Some even say Mueller’s appearances, carried wall-to-wall live on the television networks, have the potential to open up new lines of inquiry, and perhaps even pave the way for impeachment.

“Oftentimes, public hearings can change minds,” said Greg Brower, former head of the FBI congressional affairs office. “I know this is a long shot given the current reality, but there’s even some Republicans on the Hill, if they heard Bob Mueller testify and explain the details, they too might decide that impeachment is in order.”

He knows a lot of the players already.

There’s a lot of churn on Capitol Hill, but 14 of the members who questioned Mueller on the House Judiciary Committee during his visit in June 2013 are still around. There, he faced Rep. Jerry Nadler, now the chairman, who wondered aloud whether he was getting bad information from Mueller about a post-9/11 surveillance program that Edward Snowden had just revealed details about a week earlier in a leak to The Guardian.

Rep. Doug Collins (R-Ga.), then a freshman, is now the Judiciary panel’s ranking member. (Back on that occasion, the two men ended up in agreement on the need to update federal surveillance laws.)

Another senior Democrat on the panel, California Rep. Zoe Lofgren, pressed for details during that 2013 hearing about how the FBI in its pursuit of classified information leakers differentiates between journalists who publish sensitive material and their sources.

“We quite obviously don’t consider that category that you listed as criminals in any way, shape or form,” Mueller replied in reference to reporters and editors, adding: “If you go to court on this, you have to show that this particular set of materials that were leaked went to a particular person for publication, but the focus is on the person who is doing the leaking.”

Rep. Jim Jordan, now a senior GOP Judiciary member, faced off against Mueller in 2013, grilling the departing director for not knowing who at the FBI was leading an investigation into the IRS singling out conservative Tea Party groups for additional scrutiny. “This is the most important issue in front of the country the last six weeks, you don’t know who’s heading up the case? Who the lead investigator is?” Jordan complained.

“At this junction, no, I do not know who the … ” Mueller replied, before Jordan cut him off.

When I caught up with Jordan recently to ask about Mueller’s upcoming return to Congress, the Ohio Republican said his memory remained fresh of that six-year-old exchange.

“It wasn’t an impressive performance by Mr. Mueller,” he said. “I do remember that.”

Read More

#Congress #Foreign #Politics #Would

[reconditarmonia]

Dear Trick or Treater

Hi! Thank you for writing for me! I’m reconditarmonia here and on AO3. I have anon messaging off, but mods can contact me with any questions.

Alternate Universe Works | Assassin's Creed | Far from the Madding Crowd | Fidler Afn Dakh | Simoun | Sleep No More

General likes:

– Relationships that aren’t built on romance or attraction. They can be romantic or sexual as well, but my favorite ships are all ones where it would still be interesting or compelling if the romantic component never materialized.

– Loyalty kink! Trust, affectionate or loving use of titles, gestures of loyalty, replacing one’s situational or ethical judgment with someone else’s, risking oneself (physically or otherwise) for someone else, not doing so on their orders. Can be commander-subordinate or comrades-in-arms.

– Heists, or other stories where there’s a lot of planning and then we see how the plan goes.

– Femslash, complicated or intense relationships between women, and female-centric gen. Women doing “male” stuff (possibly while crossdressing).

– Stories whose emotional climax or resolution isn’t the sex scene, if there is one.

– Uniforms/costumes/clothing.

– Stories, history, and performance. What gets told and how, what doesn’t get told or written down, behavior in a society where everyone’s consuming media and aware of its tropes, how people create their personas and script their own lines.

Smut Likes: clothing, uniforms, sexual tension, breasts, manual sex, cunnilingus, grinding, informal d/s elements, intensity; stories whose resolution isn’t the sex scene. DNW "pussy."

General DNW: rape/dubcon, torture, other creative gore; unrequested AUs, including “same setting, different rules” AUs such as soulmates/soulbonds; PWP; food sex; embarrassment; focus on pregnancy; Christmas/Christian themes; focus on unrequested canon or non-canon ships; unrequested trans versions of characters.

I am requesting exclusively fic, but open to art treats!

—

Fandom: Alternate Universe Works (Treat or Trick)

Character(s): Female Li Shang (Mulan 1998), Female Ishmael (Moby Dick), Female Captain Ahab (Moby Dick), Pokémon Trainer Harrowhark Nonagesimus

Female Shang - I would...just love it so much if you Monstrous Regiment-ed this canon up. Shang also being a woman would give her even more reasons to be a hardass (is she in disguise, and thinks that her regiment failing would invite suspicion on her? is she openly female and needs to prove that she’s as good as her father and the country need her to be? is she paranoid about other women in the army, or does she want to have a female regiment?) If you want to write F!Shang/Mulan, I’d also love to know how falling in love with a woman plays into Mulan’s whole arc - it’s certainly not what her family was preparing her for, but neither was being a soldier and saving China. What does seeing another woman dressed as a man (whether Shang is openly female or not, I imagine she’d wear men’s clothes), or a group of women dressed as men, make her think? What are Yao, Chien Po, and Ling like in an AU where they’re also female, if that’s what you choose to write?

I’d be happy for just about anything in this vein - Shang character study, Mulan/Shang romance/sex (this is a canon that is a Lot about bodies and clothes), gen shenanigans with the rest of the squad, both? During canon or post? I love loyalty kink and butch characters a lot.

Female Ishmael, Female Ahab - I’d love to know more about these female sailor(s) and what drives them. A female Ishmael might still decide to sign on to a ship whenever she gets the blues, but it’d be socially fairly different, mightn’t it? (Worldbuilding-wise, I’d be more interested in a world where sailing and whaling are still typically male things as in our world, even if you make them a little less exclusively male, than an egalitarian or matriarchal world; something that women might do, without necessarily disguising themselves as men, but a GNC thing to do.) Would her already diverging from the “expected” female path in this regard affect her reception of Queequeg as someone who’s an outsider to Nantucket society? And, if Queequeg is also female, the the intimacy she offers? What does she still find outlandish? (If you also write f!Queequeg, is her life a typical female life for her home culture, or not?)

As for Ahab - just imagine this fanatic, tragic, vengeful character as a woman - with the willpower not only to do all the things canonical male Ahab does but also in a society where women aren’t really supposed to sail or kill or lead! Is she the odd one out in an otherwise male crew, or are there more women in the crew by the time she’s captain?

Pokémon Trainer Harrow - It's a great idea!! I think she'd have a Duskull, but I'm very open to any choices you make in Pokemon-ing this universe up. Do different houses tend towards different types or no? What are their different cultures around Pokémon raising, training, and fighting? What is Harrow's relationship with her Pokémon like, singular or plural? (I don't need you to think through the implications of what Lyctorhood entails in this setting if you'd rather just write slice of life, and, you know, I was writing this and realized that that might make Harrow's Pokémon Gideon. Thanks, brain, I hate it. DNW Gideon as a Pokémon.)

—

Fandom: Assassin's Creed (Treat only)

Character(s): Aveline de Grandpré

I'm close to finishing AC Liberation and I love Aveline a lot! I really like how she basically makes New Orleans into her own little fiefdom and does what she feels like doing. Not in a #girlpower way, but in the sense where she considers herself to be the best person to judge and decide in any situation and to deal with happenings on any level in her various personas, and where becoming a business magnate is actually a part of her character and plot in a way that it wasn't so much for earlier Assassins? I imagine Assassins from other places talking about New Orleans and going "oh yeah, Aveline de Grandpré runs that whole city from the shadows," and then you go there to talk to her and she pulls a Lexa (as in The 100) where she uses her slave disguise to eavesdrop on you while you wait to meet with this Assassin lady merchant.

I like her friendships with other characters too - Gérald being there as the loyal support guy, Élise and Roussillon being the people she can be at ease with (she seems so happy to see them - "Bonjour, smugglers!"). I'd be happy to see something set in New Orleans as she takes it over or after she takes it over, in the Bayou as she lives there in a very different way (where and how does she sleep when she's there?), or in Chichen Itza if you want to expand on her discovery of all the weird shit. [Edit: I've finished the game now and I also like the aspect of her mission with Connor that's about how sometimes Assassin "brother"s from other locations will show up where you, another Assassin, are because there's something they need to find or do, and you'll work together? I guess that's also the premise of AC Rev, but.]

I do ship her with Élise and would love to read that if you do too! Fighting together, whether in the Bayou or on a mission further afield that's just them; Élise visiting Aveline in New Orleans for some reason (what if they go to a fancy party together with Élise dressed as a man?); downtime fluff?

Fandom-Specific DNW: Aveline/men, even mentioned or out-of-focus.

—

Fandom: Far From the Madding Crowd (Treat or Trick)

Character(s): Bathsheba Everdene

One thing that always sticks in my mind about this novel is the way Hardy calls Bathsheba “the young farmer” just as he refers to the men as farmers - which, just saying, is more than most people writing about this story can do - and so, that being the case, what I’m most interested in is something about Bathsheba as farmer. One day in the life or four seasons in the life or five plantings/harvests in the life, or pseudo-academic fic about a case study of a woman farmer in the Victorian era, or a conflict between the farm and nature that Bathsheba has to decide how to solve.

Feel free to bring in other characters if it suits what you’re trying to do, but what I’m really looking for is a focus on Bathsheba’s work, determination, and process of learning. (I like how Bathsheba’s relationship with Gabriel ends up playing out in canon, but I don’t want shipfic.) Other ideas: something like a merchant ship AU (as the first alternate setting that came to mind where it would be not exactly the done thing for her to captain her inherited ship and make commercial decisions herself - although I do have to point out that contrary to popular belief, there were a lot of women on shipboard in the age of sail, may this be useful - but also where nature and luck/fate are as influential as they are in the original setting), or something in which the land, superstition, and ritual are more overtly magical. I LOVE English folk magic and ritual shit.

I’ve requested both tricks and treats for this fandom, but would prefer that the outlook of the fic, including if you decide to incorporate non-canon magical/spooky/occult elements, be ultimately positive rather than the doom and gloom that canon leans toward at times. A seasonal treat would be right up the alley of this request.

—

Fandom: Fidler Afn Dakh (Treat or Trick)

Character(s): The Fiddler

I would love to read about the Fiddler from the recent Yiddish production of Fiddler on the Roof, understanding him/her/them as a real person with a backstory, present and future rather than a symbol. They seem to be female (and their actor describes them as female) but wear men's clothes and are on the men's side at the wedding, and everyone seems cool with that? I'm 100% on board with any gender identity you decide you'd like to write them with. How did he/she/they come to be who they are, and what are their interpersonal relationships (platonic, familial, romantic, any gender) like? What might an encounter between them and the supernatural be or have been like? Have they always lived in Anatevka or do they wander from village to village?

Fandom-Specific DNW: antisemitism as the focus of the story. I've requested both tricks and treats, and I acknowledge that it'd be unreasonable to pretend that antisemitism doesn't exist in the world of the story, but I would prefer for any dark/scary elements to come from supernatural horror (I grew up with Singer and other Jewish folklore horror, give me as many dybbuks and demons and witches as you like) rather than the human capacity for racist violence.

—

Fandom: Simoun (Treat only)

Character(s): Neviril

I've just completed a rewatch of this show, and it has reaffirmed for me that I love Neviril. She's a leader in both a military and a religious sense, respected by her squad and by the populace, but figuring out what that means to her is such a personal journey. I still love her scene in the hearing where she speaks aloud what no one has wanted to admit or talk about - that they're soldiers now, this is war, can they still call themselves priestessses? - but I was also struck on this rewatch by how Chor Tempest increasingly becomes a player in itself in the politicking (the bit in Episode 21 where the whole lot of them fly out against orders, because it's what they, with Neviril leading and giving voice to the group, think is what their role is about), and by the scenes of her blessing the people (when iirc she is needed elsewhere by the military governor for flight purposes) and Paraietta (after what Paraietta did to her).

I love the military aspects of this canon in general (and the associated tropes of loyalty and trust and bravery and positive/negative relationship to authority) and that definitely ties in to Neviril figuring out what her role is as the squad leader, but I'm also just here for that very process of figuring it out and defining it for herself.

So...what happens to her post-canon? What is the "new world" and her travel in it like? If she makes it back to the main world when war is brewing again, but her old cohort can't fly anymore, what does she see her role as being - a leader for peace, for war, something else? How do she and Aer interact with Paraietta, Rodoreamon, Floef, and/or Vyuraf?

Ship-wise, Aer/Neviril grew on me a lot! I appreciated Aer more as the determined bit-of-a-loose-cannon type than as the manic pixie this time, and noted Neviril's comments about how she was drawn to Aer's determination. But I'd also be up for a poly situation where she's involved with both Aer and Paraietta, who are friends, or, I guess, one where it's a three-way relationship, although I don't personally know what the Aer/Paraietta side would be like! (I do like how they work together in battle even when they're shown as having personal issues.)

—

Fandom: Sleep No More (Treat or Trick)

Character(s): Bald Witch, Sexy Witch

One of my favorite things about Sleep No More was the idea of this world of darkness and magic that’s underlying or intertwined with the social world, rather than in a separate space - I loved seeing the Witches at the ball and, holy shit, Bald Witch pulling off her wig after the ball in her solo ritual thing! (I hadn’t realized it was a wig until that moment.) So -

how do either of these witches interact with the normal world (Paisley/the hotel/etc.) or deliberately carve out other spaces (like the apothecary shop)? For that matter, I love the apothecary shop and Bald Witch's scene in it A LOT, so more about that would be awesome.

How did the Witches find each other - was it before or after they were witches?

Are they immortal, and if so, what’s that like for either or both of them?

How much do they have a day-to-day life vs. witching all the time?

Their card game is super cool and I'd love to know more about the Witches and cards.

I was very struck on my last visit by Sexy Witch's dance for Hecate after the rave. The fan material seems to describe it as her having trouble coming down, but it felt to me like pleading with Hecate for more power, more magic.

If you want to ship them together, and/or with Hecate (or both) I’m very up for that as well. Some sexy prompts if you go in that direction -

ritual sex magic to make something happen or share power?

If they have non-witch personas and sleep together while they’re being normal people, is there still magic?

Sex in one of the play locations - the apothecary, the ballroom, the bar that’s the empty shell of the real bar?

Slow dancing nude, or another inverted version of something in the normal world?

Fandom-Specific DNW: f/m ships with requested characters

#dear author letters #sleep no more #simoun #gideon the ninth #assassin's creed #mulan #fiddler on the roof #far from the madding crowd #moby-dick

[reconditarmonia]

Dear Rule 63 Author

Hi! Thank you for writing for me! I’m reconditarmonia here and on AO3. I have anon messaging off, but, er, I can answer any questions you might have about my requests in my mod capacity if you contact the exchange email ;)

Fullmetal Alchemist | Machineries of Empire | Moby Dick | Mulan | Robin Hood

General likes:

– Relationships that aren’t built on romance or attraction. They can be romantic or sexual as well, but my favorite ships are all ones where it would still be interesting or compelling if the romantic component never materialized.

– Loyalty kink! Trust, affectionate or loving use of titles, gestures of loyalty, replacing one’s situational or ethical judgment with someone else’s, risking oneself (physically or otherwise) for someone else, not doing so on their orders. Can be commander-subordinate or comrades-in-arms.

– Heists, or other stories where there’s a lot of planning and then we see how the plan goes.

– Femslash, complicated or intense relationships between women, and female-centric gen. Women doing “male” stuff (possibly while crossdressing).

– Stories whose emotional climax or resolution isn’t the sex scene, if there is one.

– Uniforms/costumes/clothing.

– Stories, history, and performance. What gets told and how, what doesn’t get told or written down, behavior in a society where everyone’s consuming media and aware of its tropes, how people create their personas and script their own lines.

Smut Likes: clothing, uniforms, sexual tension, breasts, manual sex, cunnilingus, grinding, informal d/s elements, intensity; stories whose resolution isn’t the sex scene. DNW "pussy."

A note: if we matched on an / ship, I generally don't require you to include a kiss, sex, or overt romantic language if you feel that you'd have to shoehorn it in. I'll trust that you wrote it with shippy intent.

General DNW: rape/dubcon, torture, other creative gore; unrequested AUs, including “same setting, different rules” AUs such as soulmates/soulbonds; PWP; food sex; embarrassment; focus on pregnancy; Christmas/Christian themes; focus on unrequested canon or non-canon ships; swapping female characters to male; unrequested trans versions of characters.

About Rule 63 Exchange specifically: I have no strong preference for character names, with a slight preference for sticking with their canon names; it’s up to you whether you want to justify any resulting names that would be unusual for women or just gloss over it. As far as characters’ personalities and gender expression are concerned, I tend to want to see them as similar to their canon selves, just female. I’m probably fine with unrequested characters also being swapped to female, but feel free to check if you’re not sure. I don't expect, nor particularly want, a big deal made over characters' strong gender identity qua identity as female or whatnot.

—

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist

Ship(s): F!Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye

I love Roy and Riza's loyalty kink in canon so very much, so...what if they were lesbians

There are definitely some worldbuilding-y places this could go - the Amestrian military obviously has female soldiers in it, but not as many as male, especially at the higher echelons, apparently, and we don't see any female State Alchemists; does Roy's status as a powerful alchemist also vault her into a position of command and influence that most women, barring Olivier, don't get to? With regard specifically to how their relationship is different worldbuilding-wise, some kind of document or documents (newspaper, history book) or other outsider perspective on President Mustang and her decades-long professional relationship with Riza Hawkeye, so close they even live together/travel together/entertain guests together, neither of them ever married, that sort of thing? Is Roy's obfuscating public image in this AU still about going with a lot of women, or are they men? (butch or otherwise known lesbian Roy is great, but also not necessary)

But I'd be equally happy to see a fic that didn't deal with that, and that was just canon dynamics but more so and with lesbians. I love their trust and competence and stoically hidden but very very intense feelings, the willingness to risk oneself or the other person, or to stake a lot on the other person’s competence (and willingness to hurt or sacrifice the other person because their shared cause says it’s right, too, all the times that comes up), the fighting together in tandem. Is there a dangerous mission (or intelligence-collecting situation) where their deep familiarity/trust/awareness of each other’s presence and fighting style and communication come into play (god, that bit in canon where Hawkeye shoots two guys right over Mustang’s shoulder), or where they worry about each other’s safety? I love the "protect my back" exchange so, so much (I'm particularly interested in fics set during a time when that is already part of their relationship history, rather than fics set in Ishval or shortly after, and I am not really interested in fics set when they were children or young adults at all) and the way that, eventually, ends up playing out with regard to Envy. I love the intimacy of their work relationship and personal history, on levels from casual to very intense, and would love it with sexual tension in how they notice and appreciate each other’s physicality and presence and competence (hands??? muscles?) Pining up to 11, or resolved sexual tension?

Fandom-Specific DNW: framing of the Ishvalan genocide as a bad situation that happened to the Amestrian characters

—

Fandom: Machineries of Empire

Ship(s): F!Shuos Jedao/Ajewen Cheris; F!Shuos Jedao & Ajewen Cheris

I know sound like a broken record throughout this letter/signup, but I love Cheris and Jedao's friendship and loyalty kink ("Now and forever, I'm your gun" and the kneeling! aaahhh!) and, you know, what if that, but also Jedao were a hot woman.

I don't have a lot of specific plot prompts - just a general interest in intense feelings, "codependency" as understood by fandom, loyalty and trust holding up under strain, deferring to someone’s competence or sense of ethics even though you don’t know how it will turn out, making difficult choices, verbal or nonverbal displays of loyalty like the kneeling and swearing and the WHOLE KEL GLOVE THING. I'd be excited to read something set during the Ninefox timeframe when Jedao is in Cheris's head, but I think I would be most interested in something set post-Glass Cannon when oh my god, they were roommates telepathically bonded, after all the plot events that create that strong Jedao->Cheris loyalty. Jedao's canonical kinks are *thumbs up* (I've requested general audiences fic as well as explicit, so it's also fine if they don't come up or if they're referred to but not, er, acted out onscreen).

Fandom-Specific DNW: I’m aware that there’s a lot of torture and dubcon in canon. I don’t mind if you mention that they exist but I’d like to reiterate that I absolutely do not want any onscreen, or any details of torture even mentioned. DNW male Kujen or Ruo in this AU; if you don't feel like swapping them to women I would rather they not be mentioned.

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Fandom: Moby Dick

Ship(s): F!Captain Ahab & None; F!Captain Ahab & F!Pequod Crew; F!Ishmael/F!Queequeg

I'd love to know more about these female sailor(s) and what drives them. A female Ishmael might still decide to sign on to a ship whenever she gets the blues, but it'd be socially fairly different, mightn't it? (Worldbuilding-wise, I'd be more interested in a world where sailing and whaling are still typically male things as in our world, even if you make them a little less exclusively male, than an egalitarian or matriarchal world; something that women might do, without necessarily disguising themselves as men, but a GNC thing to do.) Would her already diverging from the "expected" female path in this regard affect her reception of Queequeg as someone who's an outsider to Nantucket society, and the intimacy she offers? What does she still find outlandish? As for Queequeg herself, is her life a typical female life for her home culture, or not?

As for Ahab - just imagine this fanatic, tragic, vengeful character as a woman - with the willpower not only to do all the things canonical male Ahab does but also in a society where women aren't really supposed to sail or kill or lead! Is she the odd one out in an otherwise male crew, or are there more women in the crew by the time she's captain?

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Fandom: Mulan

Ship(s): Fa Mulan/F!Li Shang; Fa Mulan & F!Li Shang & F!Yao &F!Chien Po & F!Ling

I would...just love it so much if you Monstrous Regiment-ed this canon up. Shang also being a woman would give her even more reasons to be a hardass (is she in disguise, and thinks that her regiment failing would invite suspicion on her? is she openly female and needs to prove that she's as good as her father and the country need her to be? is she paranoid about other women in the army, or does she want to have a female regiment?) I'd also love to know how falling in love with a woman plays into Mulan's whole arc - it's certainly not what her family was preparing her for, but neither was being a soldier and saving China. What does seeing another woman dressed as a man (whether Shang is openly female or not, I imagine she'd wear men's clothes), or a group of women dressed as men, make her think? What are Yao, Chien Po, and Ling like in an AU where they're also female, if that's what you choose to write?

I'd be happy for just about anything in this vein - Mulan/Shang romance/sex (this is a canon that is a Lot about bodies and clothes), gen shenanigans with the rest of the squad, both? During canon or post? I love loyalty kink and butch characters a lot.

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Fandom: Robin Hood

Ship(s): F!Robin Hood/F!Little John, F!Robin Hood & F!Merry Men, F!Robin Hood & F!Little John, F!Robin Hood & Merry Men, F!Robin Hood & Little John

Tell me about these people! A female outlaw commanding the loyalty of a mixed or male group – or an all- (or mostly-)female group of outlaws, how they live, what might have led them to choose that life. I’m also here for Robin Hood’s relationship with her right-hand man/woman specifically, because I love loyalty kink – people willing to go into danger for one another, the leader knowing how best to use her right hand’s skills and strengths, what elements of formality might appear in, well, a very ad-hoc group. (And f!Little John would probably be hot.) If you’re writing the Little John pairings, feel free to make the Merry Men either their canon versions or female versions.

I’d totally be into any of the f!characters crossdressing as men vis-à-vis the world at large, although if you go this route I’d rather have them not be in disguise to each other/to their own allies (so no Merry Men thinking they’re being led by another man when it’s crossdressing Robin, for instance - preferring masculine clothing/appearance even among friends is fine, though).

#dear author letters

[renaroo]

Twisted Legacy (15/25)

Disclaimer: Transformers and related properties belong to Hasbro Warnings: Canon-typical language and violence, Psychological torture and horror, Post-war politics, Canon divergence/Loose canon, Hospitalization and illness, Cultist indoctrination Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence from MTMTE and exRID #54] The legacy of the Primes has had a tainted past, one that weighs heavily on Optimus, his supporters, and those who seek the legacy for the future. But as they look forward for themselves and for Cybertron, a darkness looms that threatens to further corrupt the unsteady peace of their planet with its curious claim to be the Hand of Primus himself.

It’s up to Optimus, Windblade, Rodimus, and their teams to try and save all Cybertronians from this mysterious threat and, perhaps, change the future for the better if they can.

A/N: I could try to give all the excuses for why it took so long to write this chapter and get it out for you guys, but ultimately I just have to say that I’ve had a really, really unreasonably tough month that has taken away from my time to write this story quite a bit. But, hopefully, the length of the chapter can somewhat atone for the sin of having left it for so long. Thank you all fo being so patient with me, it means a lot.  

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, Isame, Snozzlefrog, and Squiggol for the feedback! I really appreciate it!

Part III: The Risk of Saving the Guilty Chapter 3.5: In the Public’s Best Interest

"You honestly just don’t know when to give up, do you?” Chromia asked in irritation. “Did you miss the part where you were thrown in jail for a few hours without due cause because of this maniac and how he runs this Primus forsaken planet?”

Windblade of course didn’t have to be reminded of such things. She had just watched her fellow delegates nearly give her a sentence for the very same injustice. 

“I didn’t,” she answered Chromia instead, pushing on forward through the halls of the very capital that had been her prison just beforehand. “And persistence will never be a bad quality.”

“Too much of any quality can be a bad thing,” Chromia muttered, though it wasn’t lost on Windblade. 

She knew she was pressing her luck. She had known that before she ever fully accepted her position at Cybertron for the Mistress of Flame and Caminus. Perhaps he had gone at these things with a certain naivety and self-righteousness. Maybe she had been knocked off her feet more than once by Cybertron and its ever incredulous leader. 

But Windblade at least could not clall herself naive anymore. 

“Things are only ever going to change around here if mechs like us refuse to allow the utter nonsense that is Starscream’s governing,” Windblade declared, finally leading them directly into the innermost chamber of Metroplex’s body and to the secreted away brain module. 

“There is no way that Starscream won’t figre out where you’ve gone to if we’re here,” Chromia continued to object. “They’ll be on us in minutes.”

“I only need a few,” Windblade assured her, walking toward the console before the brain module. “Util then, I’d appreciate if you could watch the door.”

“Don’t I always?” Chromia sighed, producing her battleaxe and taking charge of the door.

Windblade smiled apologetically toward her friend before stepping up to Metroplex’s brain. “Hello, Metroplex. I’m sorry I haven’t been by recently.”

Wind-voice. he greeted her as usual. There was a note of hesitation before he continued. You are... upset.

Offering the Titan a gentle smile, Windblade reached toward the brain module and began to pull for the direct connection. “Frazzled more than upset,” she admitted. “But I’m hoping you can help.”

Help. I will. For Wind-voice.

“Please, Metroplex,” she said, connecting the line directly from his brain module to the side of her own helm, “let me see through your eyes. Help me search for someone who wishes to cause us all harm.”

The Titan seemed alarmed, if not exhausted, by the request. There was an understanding of the underlying danger and nervousness of his citizens that Metroplex had been aware of, but beyond that the specifics had eluded him until their linking. 

Stop them, Wind-voice. 

Windblade nodded. “I absolutely will, Metroplex. You know I will. We just have to find out where they are first of all. Can you help me?”

Immediately, security feeds throughout Metroplex’s system began popping up all around Windblade. There were more than she could reasonably get through herself, but fortunately her connection to Metroplex was giving her the ability to scan through them quickly enough.

It was like searching a Titan for any of the various system errors or pains it might have been feeling, but accelerated. 

Metroplex was taking Windblade’s lead and specifically honing in on parties he had no innate connection with -- those who, in a sense, had not belonged to the city. That were foreign to him. 

But the more their focus shifted to that concentration, the more feeds began to pop up. Dozens quickly became hundreds and suddenly they were both staring at unfamiliar faces all over the city. 

Don’t know them, Wind-voice. Still mine, Wind-voice. 

Her own head was throbbing and Windblade reached up to her mantle. “I know, I know,” she said out loud. “This is all wrong--”

Getting Chromia’s attention, the bodygard turned enough from her post at the door to look worriedly at Windblade. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“This, what I’m doing -- the way I’m doing it. It’s wrong,” Windblade explained, looking tiredly at Chromia. “Metroplex has become a hub -- a metropolitan between all of the city-states of Cybertron’s surviving population, of all the colonies. We are looking for those who don’t belong based on Metroplex’s relations to them, his familiarity, and all it’s doing is making everything muggier. None of us belong at the end of the day by that definition.”

“Find another way then,” Chromia replied, seemingly unaware of the problem truly at hand.”

“Chromia, you don’t understand,” Windblade said, exhausted already. “Think about the targets thus far. Think about Error’s actions. He’s out of place in Metroplex, maybe, but they aren’t the actions of an unfamiliar resident,” she said. “It’s not truly a colonist at work. These are the actions of someone familiar. Someone at home.”

Chromia crossed her arms. “You said that Metroplex doesn’t know him.”

"He doesn’t,” Windblade agreed. “I don’t... It doesn’t make sense, I know, but neither does trying to trifle through everyone on the streets and abusing that power when we have no indication that we’re even on the right lead. That’s something Starscream would’ve asked me to do if he wasn’t so sure that I was a part of this mess somehow.”

Chromia turned fully and tilted her helm. “But Starscream didn’t think of this. You did.”

“I know, and that scares me,” Windblade replied. She looked back to the Titan’s brain module before her. “I’m so sorry to have abused your power like that, Metroplex. I won’t do it again,” she promised before unplugging herself from the system. 

“You’re not Starscream, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Chromia said without hesitation. “I know that look on your face -- that’s your look of I’ve messed everything up. You haven’t. There hasn’t been anything to mess up yet. So don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?” Windblade asked critically, looking to her bodyguard and friend. “Chromia, don’t you remember when we spoke with Optimus before? When we talked about Shadowplay and mnemosurgery... how he said that their ethics were debatable? How horrified I was to hear that from not only someone we trusted but from someone who was a Prime?” 

While she didn’t look convinced, Chromia apparently knew Windblade well enough to not continue the debate. “What’s the solution then? You need to find Error -- not just to save lives but to prove your innocence in all of this nonsense. How are we supposed to do that without crossing any lines?” She frowned, looking off with some amount of shame in her optics. “You would know better than me. I’ve crossed too many lines before. We both know that.”

Dropping her head, Windblade hugged her arms and tried to think. 

Her optics flickered back up to Chromia as she had an epiphany. “Why was Rattrap so convinced that he saw myself and Rodimus -- someone I don’t even really know -- with Error? Convinced enough he went to Starscream and got him to act on it. Like he was genuinely afraid of what he had learned.”

Chromia gave the question a genuine frown. “Is it not enough to just assume that he has a name like Rattrap for a reason? He’s one of Starscream’s cronies plain and simple.”

“No,” Windblade said with an affirmative shake of her head. “It’s not that simple. Rattrap is in this for himself, not for Starscream. And for him to react to myself and Rodimus with the vitriol that he did is significant. It was genuine fear -- he believed that we were somehow involved and endangering the rest of Cybertron.”

“Then he’s a crony and an idiot,” Chromia replied defensively. “Where are you taking this thought train, Windblade?”

“To the next logical conclusion, Chromia,” Windblade answered She turned to Metroplex’s brain module and reached out to it softly once more. “Thank you, Metroplex. And I promise again to not abuse our relationship like that again. I trust you to do everything you deem necessary to protect all Cybertronian life.”

Wind-voice. Thank you.

Relieved, Windblade turned sharply and started back out the doors. 

“Where are we going now?” Chromia asked.

“Following that thought!” Windblade answered zestfully before quickening her pace. 

As familiar as she was with the capital, it did not take her long to lead them both exactly to the medlab that Ratchet had all but taken over from Knock Out and First Aid in the past few weeks. Chromia, always a speedster herself, didn’t miss a step, always shoulder to shoulder with Windblade the whole way. 

Just as they reached the threshold, however, Optimus Prime himself was stepping outside of the room with Knock Out, of all bots, at his side. 

“Optimus!” Windblade called out, getting the Prime’s attention as she came to a halt by him. “Is Rodimus in there? I need to speak with him.”

Knock Out released a sarcastic vent and rolled his wrist. “Good luck with that. There’s not much upstairs in that bot right now, if you catch my drift.”

“I do not think that is the best idea at the moment, Windblade,” Optimus said more gently. “At the moment, Ratchet is reconstructing a base frame for Rodimus, and against all of our suggestions, he has refused to be placed offline for the procedure. Rung, the psychiatrist, is sitting with him through the process and I do not believe the session should be interrupted. For anyone’s sake.”

“This is important, Optimus, I promise,” Windblade argued. “I’m trying to track down exactly why Rattrap thought we were agents of this cult.”

“Delegate Windblade, is that the wisest decision for you?” Knock Out asked, crossing his arms. “Given the close shave you nearly had before the Council and the fact that another honored delegate has accused of steep atrocities, I would assume you would do your best to keep your nose out of the investigation from this point on.”

"Sounds like Council meetings haven’t been enough to give you a real idea of who Windblade is,” Chromia half mocked. 

Windblade ignored the two of them, instead focusing on the Prime. Optimus still seemed distant in thought -- more so than she had ever seen him before. And his dire attitude had not been improved by whatever business had taken him to the Lost Light and back. 

“Optimus,” she said, stepping up to him. “If nothing else, I’d appreciate knowing your perspective on all of this. At the very least, you have more stakes and understanding of the elements and mechs involved than I do. I’d value your opinion more than any right now.”

He focused his optics on her for a moment, but they were not filled with the warmth of the Matrix. 

“My opinion should not carry more weight than the others. Especially not now,” Optimus answered instead. “Please do not disturb Ratchet and Rung’s work at the moment, Windblade. I trust you to do whatever you deem right or necessary, but what they are doing right now with Rodimus is vital work. It may save Rodimus’ spark.”

He then continued to walk away, Knock Out reluctantly following behind him for some reason. 

Chromia looked after them, helm tilted to the side. “Wonder what that’s about. Any ideas, Windblade-- Windblade? What are you doing?”

Settling on the floor outside the door, Windblade rested her back and wings against the wall. “Waiting until I get the clear to speak with Rodimus. I need answers. He seems to be the only one with anything close to them.”

Staring at her, Chromia shook her head. “You’re one stubborn bot,” the bodyguard sighed before taking a seat on the floor opposite to Windblade. 

Sharing a small smile with Chromia, Windblade hugged her knees against her chest. “Thanks. You are, too.”

Ultra Magnus was no longer the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, and his status as Second-in-Command was questionable given the general confusion of having Co-Captains. But he took his appointments, former and imagined, with a note of seriousness that would have turned lesser bots’ energon to crystals in their pipes. 

And with one such Co-Captain down, Ultra Magnus had never been more affirmed in his duty helping to keep the Lost Light in functioning order. 

Megatron sat back in his desk with servos stacked before his eyes. He seemed even more ancient and brittle than the war itself had ever made him seem. And that was after one of the few encounters between him and Optimus Prime that hadn’t come to actual blows. 

“Is there anything you need me to do, Captain?” Magnus asked, nearly feeling as tired as Megatron looked. 

“Yes,” Megatron answered without hesitation, actually managing to surprise Magnus some. “I need you to get Bainstorm in here. Quickly. Before I rethink anything.”

Confused, Magnus reached to his wrist so as to send out the communication. He waited a moment, looking to his exhausted leader. “Are you certain you wish to meet with Brainstorm? You have not met with him one-on-one.”

“And I will continue with that record, you are staying here, too,” Megatron ordered flatly. “Send it out.”

Allow a twitch of emotion to cross his faceplate, Magnus sent out the signal at last and shook his head firmly. “As you wish, Sir,” he replied flatly. 

Considering the very public, very close to success, assassination attempt that Brainstorm had attempted on Megatron on their very ship with time briefcases and nonsense abound, it was not exactly a Luna One level mystery of Cybertron why Megatron had not had much contact with his would-be killer compared to the other survivors of the mutiny. 

Which made the certain change suspicious, if nothing else. 

There was apparently some hesitation at least on Brainstorm’s end as it took him more than thirteen minutes to get to the Captain’s office whereas Ultra Magnus had calculated multiple times that a bot of his make and model could have easily traversed the space from the science lab to them in at least nine minutes. 

Given the circumstances, however, Ultra Magnus neglected to bring up the discrepancy. 

“Uh, you asked for me?” Brainstorm asked cautiously, barely poking more than his helm into the room. 

“Yes, now get in and shut the door behind you,” Megatron ordered impatiently.

Brainstorm glanced from the captain to Ultra Magnus warily, but there was little encouragement to be offered. Instead he simply did as was ordered and came barely into the office, just enough steps to bring in his wings before the office door shut behind him. 

“Alright, guess you’re being serious about... whatever this is,” Brainstorm joked lightly with a turn of his wrist. 

“I’m going to be curt with you, Brainstorm,” Megatron explained. “You were one of the least injured among the survivors on Eukaris. And your attempt on my life well before the mutiny is well known for its... elaborate nature and decades of planning.”

“Ooo-kay,” Brainstorm replied, tilting his helm. “Thank you? I guess?”

“Which is why you have raised my suspicions,” Megatron continued.

“What?” Brainstorm balked. 

“Please know that any truthful reply to me at this point will not be met with reprimand but with honest consideration,” Megatron explained, red eyes flickering with meaning. “I wish no harm to you now than I did when it was first learned you were going back in time to undo my life and its work.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” Brainstorm asked flatly. “That’s just ambiguous enough that I can take it to mean you’ve really wanted to kill me since that day. Just saying. Maybe we should hash everything out before this conversation continues--”

“Sir, perhaps it would be best to allow me to work out some proper lines of questioning here,” Magnus offered. “I believe yours are... dubious at best--”

Megatron held up a hand and silenced them both, much to Magnus’ chagrin. 

“We haven’t the time for double meaning, only answers, I assure you,” Megatron explained. “Brainstorm, have you at any time -- recently or in the past -- been approached by this cult which seems to be at the center of undermining our mission to find the Knights of Cybertron and undoing the very fabric of the peace back on Cybertron.”

For a moment, Brainstorm simply cycled his optics in disbelief, then he pointed at his own chest plate with a thunk. “Me?” he asked critically.

Somewhat stunned himself, Ultra Magnus leaned toward Megatron’s desk. “Sir, perhaps there is a better way to parse your question--”

“Perhaps, but there’s not a more direct way,” Megatron said without so much as looking Ultra Magnus’ way. “Brainstorm, I want honesty in your answer. No repercussions will come of the truth. You have my word.”

“Oh, that means a lot!” Brainstorm cried out, throwing up his arms. “Are you being serious right now? You think I would betray the ship? Betray Rodimus after everything? This is my home! And I almost lost it once on the Necrobot’s planet already!” 

“Perhaps you were approached beforehand, your values have shifted,” Megatron offered. “Perhaps the group became more militant in your absence. You have played both sides before.”

Brainstorm’s optics narrowed and he yanked off his faceplate viciously, the tearing of metal causing Magnus to flinch. “You see any insignia or flames on this? I don’t even have the Decepticon brand anymore, I removed it the moment I was placed on probation on the ship. Sir.”

Ultra Magnus could feel the air growing stale once more, neither bot on both sides of the room willing to relent.

“Some marks can only be seen at the spark,” Megatron said simply in return. 

“What are you fraggin’ getting at!?” Brainstorm demanded. 

“Why were you left relatively unscathed? Why didn’t Starscream take the opportunity to arrest you? Why were you the only member of Rodimus’ away team which did not make it into the caves with them before the attack?” Megatron asked in rapid fire succession.

“If you’re trying to say something to me, Megatron, you need to say it directly to my face!” Brainstorm snapped back angrily. “I am not a traitor! I am not! And being accused by you, of all bots, is an indecency I can hardly muster!”

“And yet you know no bot has more reason to suspect,” Megatron replied darkly. 

Having heard more than enough, Magnus stepped between the two of them clearly, holding his hands up. “This cannot be continued,” he said plainly. “It is inappropriate and unseemly.”

“You mean he is inappropriate and unseemly!” Brainstorm snarled, snapping his faceplate back onto his helm. “I’m done with this meeting if you are.”

“I have not received my answer yet,” Megatron said calmly. 

“Frag you, Megatron,” Brainstorm growled, heading out the door in a brash fashion. 

Flinching as the door slammed shut, Ultra Magnus then turned to his captain suspiciously. “Satisfied, Sir? I think given a few drinks at Swerve’s and one story to either Tailgate or Whirl and this entire fiasco will have alienated the entire ship from you.”

Megatron scowled. “Believe it or not, that was not the intention of the meeting,” he announced.

“I’d appreciate being informed as to what was the intention then,” Magnus replied dryly.

“We already turned the recordings over to Optimus Prime,” Megatron reminded him. “That much of the investigation is out of our hands. But we can still act on what we know. And what we know is that Brainstorm was not heard on those recordings.”

“That makes him guilty?” Ultra Magnus asked skeptically.

“That makes him a link, and if he is half the genius he makes himself out to be then he would understand that significance as well,” Megatron answered, denta gritting. “Nothing these menaces have done thus far has been without reason. And no one recognizes that more than myself.”

“I suppose not,” Ultra Magnus replied. “But do you think Brainstorm understands his significance even in that much?”

“Not after that exchange,” Megatron sighed. “That was honest. And Brainstorm does not seem to me to be quite a liar.”

“Only in matters of building time machines,” Ultra Magnus said dully. 

“Careful, Magnus,” Megatron said, rubbing at his optics. “Rodimus might not take kindly to you growing a sense of humor while he was gone.”

If nothing else, Optimus could always rely on Starscream’s flare for theatrics. 

He was suspicious from the moment he had been summoned by Cybertron’s appointed leader, after all there were few things that he and Megatron agreed on but not trusting Starscream had been high among them. But when he entered the room to a bleak darkness and found that the former Seeker leader was looking for a one-on-one, Optimus felt confidence flare up from his spark.

Starscream was hoping to corner him, but was more afraid of witnesses should he corner himself. 

At the very least it meant that Windblade had been right in her suspicions. Though there was a morality question on whether or not to encourage her snooping any further. 

There was definitely something Starscream was attempting to hide. 

“Took you long enough,” Starscream snapped as soon as the door was closed. 

“Apologies for any inconvenience,” Optimus Prime said with as little spark behind his words as possible. 

Turning toward Optimus, Starscream shared what was becoming his characteristic, world weary scowl. “I already know it’s next to useless to ask you what you’ve learned from the expedition I sent you on to the Lost Light,” he said flatly. “Seeing as how your first instinct upon reaching Cybertron was to completely undermine my executive authority before the entire council.”

“Then I would say you do not understand my motives very well,” Optimus argued firmly. 

“Oh, please,” Starscream sneered, rolling his optics. “Prime, there are few things in this or any other world a Cybertronian has ever stepped foot on that are less understandable than your nobility and motives. I’m certain you can explain away your motivations for assisting and defending a friend who got himself in over his head and found himself in the midsts of a plot to undo the very fabric and stability of our very unstable current society.”

Optimus let out a long vent and shook his head. Starscream had developed very little over his time as leader, even less so than Optimus had once dared to hope that he would. 

The mech was incapable of accepting other points of view or reaching out for help in the idea of simple compassion and kindness. 

A ruler not to be revered, one could argue very firmly. 

“If there is nothing you would ask of me then I would rather make myself more productive and useful elsewhere, Starscream,” Optimus somewhat threatened. “I have much to discuss with the medical staff--”

“Oh, I’m certain you do,” Starscream mocked. “Seems everyone is suddenly very busy around your little second stringer protege.”

A flicker of anger quickly rose within Optimus and he turned to leer at the supposed leader of his planet, his home. But nothing came of it, though the reference to Bumblebee and the condescension toward Rodimus were not outside of Optimus’ grasp.

“A lot can be said about the allegiances we hold and in what order we hold them, Starscream,” Optimus said clearly. “I will not make apologies for where mine have come to lie.”

“Then let me make it abundantly clear, once again, just where mine lie, Optimus Prime,” Starscream snapped back. “Mine are with the good of Cybertron. And I am not above wickedness or betrayal of lesser goals to ensure that. That is what makes me the leader of this new world’s order rather than you. And the more savagery and chaos your presence and the presence of your followers brings to us, the longer my reign will flourish. Because if there’s one thing this world trusts less than me as a ruler, it’s war heroes who are still fighting.”

“That may be true,” Optimus admitted wearily, “but you were far from a bystander yourself, Starscream. And no one knows the scars of war and strategy as well as you. Which is why I know to come to you for this request rather than your council.”

Starscream hesitated, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair. 

“You have me curious, I must admit,” he said lowly. “Do go on.”

“I believe that it is more and more apparent that this cleansing that Error and his cult have called for has to do with the Matrix and those who have bore it,” Optimus explained carefully. “I have reason to believe that it was the reason for targeting Rodimus psychologically, for targeting me physically, and for targeting you politically.”

For a moment, a flicker of surprise came across Starscream’s face before hardening into anger. “You believe I am targeted. Prime, if you have evidence of a conspiracy against me and you haven’t been forthcoming with it, then I will charge you with being part in that conspiracy--”

“It is apparent,” Optimus clarified. “These threats have done nothing for you politically, and I believe there is reason behind Windblade’s suspicion of you in regards to Error. And I believe that the three of us are connected by one thing.”

“Please, I wore the Matrix momentarily compared to the two of you,” Starscream scoffed. “That putz Hot Rod saw to that himself. Before Megatron put a hole exactly where that Matrix belonged. What an irony that they now serve together thanks to your intervention--”

“The amount of time would not matter to those radicalized enough to believe that a valid response to any perversion of Primus’ will is worth murdering and slaughtering over,” Optimus warned. “So if there are not any connections as Windblade suspects there are, I believe it would be within your best interest to keep it that way.”

Starscream narrowed his optics. “You have a plan, I presume?”

“I will use myself and the Matrix to draw out Error, somewhere away from the city’s population and away from the energon supplies to prevent any threats of spreading the disease they have weaponized,” Optimus proposed grimly. “In return, all that I ask is that there be more guards for the medical ward and for yourself.”

“For your fanboy and your enemy,” Starscream surmised. “How kind of you, Optimus.”

“I simply do not wish for Cybertron to fall into chaos without a decisive leader,” he clarified, He could only hope that his tone hid any disgust he still felt at his core from having to regard Starscream as such. 

“I can grant it,” Starscream announced. “But you won’t be going alone on this suicide mission.”

“But--” Optimus began only for Starscream’s hand to come up.

“I’m sending another member of the Council to, at the very least, bare witness to this catastrophic idea of yours. You and I may not think much of the Matrix and those who have touched it, but you are correct about the sway it holds for others. In the unfortunate circumstances that you should fall, I would rather have someone I trust nearby to take the mantle for you rather than this genocidal maniac Error,” Starscream clarified. 

“In that case, I will go with whoever you assign,” Optimus said regretfully.

“And while you are gone, I will do my best to uncover whatever evidence it is that you have been so keen on keeping from me that you found on the Lost Light,” Starscream warned, a clever smirk on his face. “So don’t think we’re done with these elating conversations just yet, Optimus Prime.”

“Neither of us should be so lucky,” Optimus responded grimly. 

#writing #tf fic #TF: Twisted Legacy #Windblade #Ultra Magnus #Optimus Prime #Chromia #Metroplex #Knock Out #Megatron #Brainstorm #Starscream

[renaroo]

Recovery None (52/61)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typically violence, Psychological torture & manipulation, Mentions of gore, Character death, Minor Sexual content Pairings: Yorkalina, Chex Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence AU] When the Mother of Invention crashed, Project Freelancer was in shambles, its surviving agents scattered, its equipment stolen, and an impending investigation into the crash from the UNSC was on the horizon. To regain control of the deeply corrupted program, the Director established a new unit from his remaining supplies – the Recovery Unit.

Three former Freelancers were chosen for particular tasks: Zero is to hunt down and destroy the Meta, One is to investigate and recover stolen or missing equipment, and Two is to take down AWOL former agents.

Of course, no one’s motivations are what they seem…

A/N: EVERYTHING’S COMING TOGETHER. almost. Sort of. You’ll see what I mean : ) 

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @icefrozenover, @washingtonstub, @freshzombiewriter, @scribbleboxfox, @notatroll7, DuchessPoint, Yin, @every-survival, and Minerva  for the feedback!

Recovery Zero XVI: Within Reach

She found herself asking, more than once, why were they doing this. And while normally that would have been a rhetorical and even hysterical question to ask, Carolina was still getting accustomed to the idea that her mind -- and thus, those answers, were no longer simply her own. 

“I thought it was pretty clear why we were doing this,” Epsilon spoke up, looking at her from over her shoulder. 

“Covert, Epsilon. We’re doing covert surveillance,” Carolina reminded him in a snappish whisper. 

She shifted from her squatted position -- still far behind the compound and in the snowy banks. It was unlikely that these soldiers -- all simulation troopers from the looks of them -- were going to catch onto them any time soon. But she still hadn’t had any sights on Wyoming. 

And he was the one that she was concerned about. 

Which, again, made this entire operation, once again, questionable. 

Epsilon pouted, so much as an artificial intelligence could. “I’m just saying, I thought we were doing it to help your friend--”

“Texas is not my friend,” Carolina corrected. 

“You should probably tell her that, then, because she sure as hell seems to be putting a whole lot of trust in you guys. I mean. Even York was kinda more prone to questioning than--”

“Don’t bring up York,” Carolina warned dangerously, her eyes focused on her AI for extra emphasis. It worked and Epsilon fell back slightly, shoulders of his sprite lifted high. “Don’t bring up York while we’re doing this dumb mission you’re so excited about. And especially don’t bring up York around her.”

“She doesn’t like York?” Epsilon asked curiously.

“They were... I don’t know. They were friends,” Carolina spat out, looking back to the fortress in the snow and making sure to count the seconds between patrols. 

They were inconsistent -- disorganized. 

That could work in their favor. Or it could work against them -- Carolina was not a fan of unpredictability, after all. 

“So we’re not allowed to be friends with Texas,” Epsilon pushed for more information, as if their brain was not a two way street and Carolina understood exactly what his angle was.

Letting out a growl, Carolina snapped back, “Why do you care?”

“Hey, I’m just trying to make sure we’re on the same page here, Cee. Trying to make sure I understand all the rules. Being a good partner. Making your life easier and all that stuff a good AI partner is supposed to, calm down,” Epsilon said with a shrug.

Rolling her eyes somewhat petulantly, Carolina shook her own head. “You have far from made my life any easier, Epsilon.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. Which means I deserve some leniency for at least trying, right?” he asked. 

“No,” Carolina said. “Okay, there’s no patterns in the rotations but we’ve at least got a count on the soldiers.”

“And at least five options for a plan of attack,” Epsilon said just as five different maps loaded across Carolina’s HUD. 

“What?” she said, glancing over them.

“Trying that whole making your life easier thing, being an AI and whatnot,” Epsilon said, a flicker of greenish-blue across his projection.

“You’re doing it again,” Carolina said, pausing. “The green projection. It’s--”

“It’s not really Delta,” Epsilon admitted somewhat sheepishly. “But... I miss him. And he helps me think.”

“You split,” Carolina said quietly.

“No,” Epsilon said quickly. “I just... I need to do things. Things to make all the... all the different parts of me make sense. I need voices to talk back to -- in my own time. I need them the way you need me.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?” Carolina asked lowly. “I don’t want you breaking up bits of my brain. It gives me enough challenges intact.”

“I know, I live in there,” Epsilon attempted to joke back. But when Carolina didn’t laugh with his pause, Epsilon sighed and hugged his shoulders. “I would never hurt you, Cee.”

“Not on purpose,” Carolina said softly. 

“Not ever,” Epsilon argued, so ignorant of his own history still. “Which is why, even though Tex is a hot piece of circuit breakers, I’m totally respecting your nonsensical hatred of her and not going to ask her to exchange binary.”

Nose curling beneath her helmet, Carolina stunted a shutter. “I don’t even fully comprehend what you were suggesting and I’m disgusted. Have higher standards.”

“Well, I mean, it’s not like anyone can beat you in a fair fight, right?” Epsilon joked. “I have to lower a bit.”

All humor escaping her, Carolina selected one of the attack plans Epsilon had singled out and then began to quietly move back toward where the ship was hidden. “Tex beat me.”

“Oh, so I do have remarkable standards,” Epsilon said.

Letting out a furious growl, Carolina threw her fist into the nearest rock facing, snow shifting above them, nearly threatening to blow all their cover. 

Fortunately for them, the simulation troopers patrolling not only didn’t see them, but managed to look in the wrong direction and start blaming each other for the commotion. 

Wyoming’s hiring policies must have been pretty subpar. 

“Whoa!” Epsilon cried out, appearing in front of Carolina’s face. “Would you calm down? You’re going to get us found out! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“And what does that matter to you, Epsilon?” Carolina snarled. “What’s that matter to anyone? What am I at the end of the day to anyone compared to her? Why do people either leave and never come back or decide I’ll never be good enough? Why is no one on my side!?”

“Hey!” Epsilon said, voice stronger than Carolina had ever heard it. He stood his ground, sprite bright in front of her. “I’m on your side. I’m always on your side.”

She was ready to discount the cold comfort of his words, to spit back out the first retort that came to mind, but instead she found herself staring at Epsilon with a slackened jaw. He was part of her, part of her mind, and she could feel the meaning of his words stronger than even she had felt Eta and Iota. 

He meant it. Epsilon really meant it.

“I just don’t think me being on your side has to mean we’re against everyone else,” Epsilon explained. “C’mon, Cee. You’re a team leader. You know how to play nice with people. And I like Tex. I think she’s what we need to get to the bottom of this. She’s another AI, and I don’t have Delta -- well, the real Delta -- to coach me anymore, right? Maybe this is all... I don’t know. The way things work out.”

"Don’t say something stupid,” Carolina warned, glaring at her AI. “Don’t tell me that everything’s meant to happen or--”

“Hell, no,” Epsilon said. “Bad shit happens all the time and makes no sense. I don’t remember much, but I know that. It’s written into my code. But... I think things happen, and you use ‘em or lose ‘em. Right?”

Carolina tilted her head, a bit in awe of the AI. She huffed then continued sneaking them back to the ship. “When did you get so intellectual, Epsilon?”

“Hey, when you’re a nonstop working computer brain, I figure intellect’s about the only thing you got,” he said self-depreciatingly. “So I won’t get cozy with Tex.”

“And I won’t threaten to kill her,” Carolina agreed. “But it’s hard.”

“Hey! Promises,” Epsilon responded cheekily just as they entered the ship. He glanced toward Tex and Niner then flickered off, almost obediently. 

Though, Carolina had some suspicion it had to do with the uncomfortable way Tex leered at him every time he made his presence known. 

“What’ve you got?” Niner broke the ice impatiently. 

“A plan of action, if Tex can coordinate and work fast as a team,” Carolina said accusingly, ignoring the internal groaning from Epsilon. When Tex tilted her head and crossed her arms, Carolina let out her own sigh of aggravation and put her hands on her hips. “Look, we can do this. I’ll even have Epsilon send over the specs for it. But I’ve worked with teams before. You haven’t. I don’t know how well you’ll take orders.”

“I won’t,” Tex said clearly. 

“Well, fantastic. Great start,” Carolina snapped, throwing up her hands. “You know, I don’t even know why we agreed to get this far--”

“Okay, Carolina, hold on a second,” Niner said. “Now, seriously, both of you cut the shit. I’m not your nanny. I’m your getaway driver. And neither of you are much use to me if you put a blemish on my record by not getting away alive. You going to fuck with my record, ladies?”

"No, ma’am,” both Carolina and Texas said in unison. 

“Good,” Niner huffed, rolling her chair toward the command computers in the cockpit again. “I’ll run correspondence on a private line from in here. And I’ll know exactly which one of you hotheads blows our plan through doing so. So don’t test me.”

Nodding, Carolina responded with a simple, “Thanks, Niner.” She then turned to head out the door again only to walk into Tex who had somehow managed to sneak up behind her. “What--”

“Before we go, we’ve got to deal with your signal transmission,” Tex announced sternly.

Immediately filled with defensiveness, Epsilon appeared over Carolina’s shoulder. “Hey! I’ve been covering my butt since the second we got here--”

“Not your signal,” Tex snapped and then nodded to Carolina. “Hers. It’s radiating like a goddamn beacon.”

“What are you talking about?” Carolina asked before realization hit her. She waved to her armor’s chest. “My Recovery beacon? That’s more masked than any equipment you’ve probably got on you. And, what’s more, no one outside of this ship... this ship and one other person knows about it. It can’t be traced without being known about.”

She gritted her teeth, fully prepared to defend not telling Tex just who the other person was, but it fortunately did not come down to that. 

“Really? Then how do I know about it?” Tex demanded. 

Carolina audibly snapped her mouth closed at the question, realizing that the argument was not going in her favor thus far. “I don’t know, you’re a smart AI. You probably began scanning for it after realizing I was alive. What do you want? A cookie?”

“I want you to mask the signal,” Tex said simply. “If I found it on accident, how long do you think it’ll take the combined forces of Gamma and Omega to find it once guards start turning up missing or being found dead?” 

A terse silence took over between them.

Epsilon looked back and forth before awkwardly forcing a cough. “Well, I mean, there is a point there, Cee.”

Carolina visibly hesitated. Those thoughts of York itched at the back of her mind like a bad memory, always just under the surface, and trying to dig their way back out to the surface. 

It was something... it was something unfinished.

And her memories were even longer than Epsilon’s, it seemed. 

“I was supposed to leave them on for someone,” she defended the beacon.

“Would that someone want you dead?” Tex asked crudely. “Because that’s the options we’re looking at right now, Carolina.”

Squaring her jaw, Carolina huffed and looked to Epsilon’s sprite.

“Can you turn off my Recovery beacon?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know the answer.

“Consider it done,” Epsilon answered before flickering off.

“Good,” Tex said, finally moving out the door. “Let’s do this... leader.”

Carolina scowled and followed.

As much as he hated to do it, York knew he had to pace himself -- take breaks and rest, even if he didn’t even fully sleep while he did so. Those injuries weren’t nothing and the fact that his suit’s power was still at least partially diverted to his healing unit meant even worse. 

He couldn’t go nonstop, but he did keep going.

It hadn’t made a lot of sense to him back when Carolina originally did it -- when she gave him the way to track her beacon while removing his. At first it was just a sign of trust, the kind of sign they needed to move forward with whatever they were to each other. 

But as he had no one to think with but himself, he found himself reflecting on that choice more and more.

It wasn’t simply that she needed to have his trust. She was trusting him, as well. And she was doing that by giving him the option of going with the hopes that he wouldn’t.

Laying back under the bushes he had himself and his vehicle in, York realized how dumb -- how stupid -- he was to have broken that trust. 

“Man, what an asshole,” York muttered to himself. 

He then paused, waiting. 

His brain felt numb, even deflated, as the familiar hum never came. As the opportunity to berate him in good humor was not taken up by the empty space. 

Chewing on his lip, York pulled up Delta’s audio file again, to help just pretend his brain was still full of facts and logic and the partnership he couldn’t even begin to put into words. 

The last few times York was able to get anything resembling sleep, it was in the middle of Delta’s departure video. York had just about every word of it memorized. 

He didn’t have the mind for numbers and theories that Delta had -- never even tried keeping up with the AI. And why would he? Delta had it covered. 

But more and more York was taking comfort in memorizing. In remembering things, details, just to keep his mind running. 

As long as he did that, it didn’t feel so empty anymore. 

Once the recording ended, York ready to drift into semiconsciousness and then, hopefully, sleep, he instinctively pulled up the coordinates of Carolina’s Recovery beacon. 

Figuring out the miles between them -- simple math, math he could do alone -- was another small comfort. 

Except he didn’t find that comfort. 

In shock, York sat up ramrod straight, nearly making himself dizzy and nauseous with it. But he ignored the vertigo, ignored the pain of injuries jarred by his movements. 

Ignored it all and stared, mortified, at the update to his HUD. 

Carolina’s beacon was no longer on the grid. 

“What the fuck?” he said out loud, pulling up his last log of it, comparing, getting confused. 

Did she not want him to find her now? Did something happen to her? Was she captured?

York didn’t know, but he was about to find out. 

Completely awake and with adrenaline rushing through him, York leaped up and moved toward his mongoose and readied to drive in the direction of Carolina’s last beacon transmission when everything changed.

He heard the aircraft before he saw it. He looked up, recognizing the markings on the wings as the vehicle flew low overhead and toward the opposite direction. 

"What the hell,” he muttered. “Charon Industries? That... can’t be a coincidence.”

It could have been, of course. York nearly waited to hear the statistical possibility that the rival institute would be on the Freelancer controlled planet. After all, Tex had showed him that they weren’t Insurrectionists after all, as horrifying as that realization had been.

But there was no little voice muttering probabilities in the corner of his mind. There was only dullness where a hum had once resonated. 

And the only one second guessing York was himself. Something he had never been that great at. 

“Well, let’s see how deep this rabbit hole goes,” York decided, turning the mongoose and heading after the ship.

Carolina had to hand it to Epsilon, the AI could actually make quite the plan of attack. 

The fortress, while heavily guarded, was still guarded by complete morons. The sorts of flunkies which Project Freelancer managed to turn into simulation troopers were not chosen without reason. 

While Tex flanked right, Carolina flanked left. 

She easily moved silently through the soldiers. One moment, Epsilon would have her armor’s color change from red to blue as necessary and she sneaked past guards only to silently take them out from behind. 

It was covert operations, it was her specialty. And Carolina was almost able to lull herself into simply rolling with the motions. 

At least, until she was backing up and hit against something invisible.

“Hey!” Tex growled at the same time as Carolina turned with her gun aimed and yelled, “Hey!” herself. 

Tex dropped her active camo and they stared at each other for a moment, guns up. 

Epsilon appeared over Carolina’s shoulder and looked back and forth between them. “Ladies...”

“I took out twelve,” Carolina announced. “If you were able to take out the same amount there’s still three more guards--”

“Nope, I actually took out fifteen,” Tex said. “We’re covered.

“What?” Carolina hissed, dropping her gun and looking incredulously at Epsilon. “Epsilon!”

“What?” he called out. “What’d I do?”

“You gave her the side with the most soldiers?” Carolina growled.

“What’s it matter? I took them all out. Now we have to go for Wyoming,” Tex grunted. 

“I didn’t mean to! I mean, maybe. It’s not what you think--” Epsilon attempted to defend himself just before there was a revving of an engine. “Oh what the fuck is going on now!?”

Just as the words left Epsilon, the doors behind Tex and Carolina burst open beneath the wheels of a warthog flying through the air, landing front wheels first, and driving directly into Tex, giving Carolina time to move only thanks to her speedboost. 

TEX!!! Epsilon all but screamed in her mind, causing Carolina to go into a full body flinch.

“Epsilon!" she hissed, sliding to a standing position away from the ongoing collision. It was enough to make the AI stop screaming and get back into full attention, turning his projection off and turning her armor color to a deep red to blend into the surroundings. 

The collision between Tex and the warthog continued, her caught on the grill before it smacked into the opposing wall. She let out a grunt, but otherwise reacted rather inhumanly to being pinned. 

Carolina nearly leaped forward to begin to help, but she paused in her tracks. 

She had known they were going after Wyoming, but seeing him there, in the seat, alive and well, was chilling. Unexpected somehow. 

They had been hunting teammates. Just like she had supposed to have been hunting Maine. Even if it was, in her mind, always about following him to the Director. 

Wyoming didn’t seem to hold any of those qualms. 

“Well well, look who abandoned her mates to follow me. I’m flattered, of course, but you’ll pardon me for not acting surprised, Tex,” Wyoming said calmly before looking  back toward the door and where two simulation troopers were laying on the ground. “And it seems you’ve killed my two best guards. Oh bugger.”

“Oops,” Tex gritted out. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Perish the thought, my dear. Tomorrow is pay day. You actually saved me quite a bit of money. Kill anyone else and I might have to start paying you commission,” Wyoming joked.

Tex did’t waste time, though. “Where is he!?”

Wyoming sighed. “Oh, right. And here I thought you were spending all this time trying to get close to me. Tisk tisk.”

“Cut the shit!” Tex roared. “Where is he?”

“Yes, he asks about you, too, Tex,” Wyoming said cryptically. “It’s almost as if you two are on the same mind.”

“That’s not funny,” Tex snapped.

“Sorry, but I can’t play matchmaker today, I’m entirely too busy,” Wyoming announced. “Seems there’s an Alpha that’s still missing its Omega.”

“Don’t you DARE!” Tex roared like some kind of caged animal, clawing at the hood of the warthog that was doing its level best to crush her into the concrete wall. Said wall cracked behind her armor. 

“Alpha?” Carolina asked. “Epsilon, which one’s--”

Suddenly, there was a primal scream. It tore through her mind, ripping through her like tissue paper. Harmonious screams behind her eyeballs, ripping through her very soul.

It was rage and it was fear. It was heartache, it was anger. It was a memory of who was and who wasn’t anymore.

They came rippling through her mind, leaving Carolina with so little control to stop herself. 

Crying out along with Epsilon, Carolina reached up and grabbed at the edges of her helmet, shaking her whole body back and forth in an effort to regain control.

The visions, the familiar faces, the names, the-- 

Sunshine--

“Carolina!” Tex yelled, barely heard through the cacophony within Carolina’s own skull.

Her eyes rolled back and her body dropped, her mind only casually hearing the sounds of a vehicle taking off. Hardly registering the the weightlessness of being picked up.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you, kiddo,” a familiar voice said through the blinding pain.

Carolina’s face was growing wet with tears as she held onto her helmet for dear life. 

“Mom?” she asked just before everything went black.

I’m sorry. They were right all along. What’s... what’s wrong with me? echoed through her skull into the dark. 

York played it safe. Maybe too safe. 

He wanted a simultaneous terrain readout and a scan of the frequencies nearby the landed ship. He also wanted to divert some power from the healing unit to run all the systems together.

With Delta, he would have barely had time to think of the requests before the AI would have been bickering about how displeased he was with diverting from the healing unit.

But, once again, Delta wasn’t there. 

Instead, York skipped the terrain readout, diverted more power from the healing unit than he probably should have, and then began manually skipping through the radio frequencies.

“This sucks,” York uttered in what had to be the world’s greatest understatement. 

After what felt like forever, he locked onto a weak signal -- a personal channel from a helmet radio. 

Perfect. 

“Because I don’t have anything else to do!” a familiar voice screamed over the crackling radio.

Immediately, York gritted his teeth. “South.”

“There’s a ship inbound for some piece of shit place called Blood Gulch. I’ll take the place of the people on that ship, it’ll work from there. It has to,” she said to whoever she was speaking to. She sounded hysterical, upset. York had a hard time feeling sympathetic. “Why? Because we don’t have any other options. This is it. This is the one. That was where he was heading. You saw it yourself.”

Dropping from the channel, York narrowed his eyes and moved back toward the mongoose. 

“I don’t know who’s heading to Blood Gulch, but I’m not letting South get there first,” he gritted out, setting his GPS. “Every time she’s a step ahead of us, it’s trouble. I’m done with letting it find us instead of them.”

He started up the mongoose and began the drive, ignoring how there was no us anymore. 

#writing #rvb fic #RvB: Recovery None #Agent Carolina #Epsilon Church #Four Seven Niner #Agent Texas #Agent York #Agent Wyoming #Agent South