#also i TRIED to stick with stuff where it's like. i was actively involved in the 'fandom' or made stuff for it

[bloodsbane]

awesome well now that i have been blessed with this power im going to make the poll ive wanted to make for ages because this is something that im really truly curious about.

hello my dear followers, if you see this PLEASE vote and let me know:

#banebabbles #bane polls #guess this can be a tag now??? #obvs yall dont have to reblog this but ill probably be bumping it at least like once a day LOL #thanks and also sorry in advance ;ljksf i i just uh really genuinely am curious about this #ive wanted polls so i could more easily find this out for years #also i TRIED to stick with stuff where it's like. i was actively involved in the 'fandom' or made stuff for it #YOI was almost on here bc i wrote posts while watching live for example #but id say everything else up here was way more prominent or more likely to have drawn folks to my blog #okay ill stop talking now tho. sowwy. pls vote tho <3

[kitskiis]

I think the saddest part about secret life Joel is just how futile all of his actions are in that season. On a surface level i mean stuff like all of his more careful gameplay being cancelled out by a singular failed tnt trap but on a deeper level i specifically mean how that character contrasts with last life Joel. Joel is undoubtedly at his lowest point in the life series in Last Life. He goes down to red in session 2 and spends the majority of the rest of the season alone (and when he does have allies it’s only bc of a shared bloodlust). The red bloodlust completely takes over and this festers for nearly *8 sessions*. Not only that but the one time he is given a chance to restart and go back to yellow his old alliance member goes to red, leaving him alone again, and he is made boogeyman the next session. This, overall, has lasting consequences (he actually wanted to be fairly friendly at the beginning of LL, a stark contrast to how bloodthirsty he was at the beginning of DL or Lim L), and gained him a reputation that has never fully gone away. This is especially bad bc most people agree that LL was the most violent season (despite the lower kill counts in comparison to LimL) and was generally the worst and most traumatizing experience in the games for most people involved. Compare this to secret life, which everyone agrees was definitely the happiest season for Joel (or at least the most normal. His life is a tragedy no matter the season.) he has allies that (for the most part rip mumbo) stick with him until the end, he is friendlier with a larger group of people, and when he initially has to deal with the loss of some of them he has people who can ground him (bc as much as I adore the bad boys, grian was not qualified to do that). He was so hopeful that season, and was generally in a much healthier place mentally. And yet, despite how much he seemed to have grown, those 2 seasons ended so similarly for him it was almost comical. Joel engaged in a fight at the end, watched his ally get killed by scott, and is then forced into a 2v1 against Scott and another player that results in Scott taking his final life and him finishing 5th overall. I was describing both of those seasons here. After everything he did to grow, after all the improvements he had made, everything ended *exactly the same*

Making this about the bad boys for a second (because I’m me) they kinda suffer similar fates. Grian learned in the most tragic way possible that his allies were doomed to fail as long as he was with them no matter what, that this was not something that he could control by simply avoiding killing them himself. Even when he actively tries to save them (“let Tim do it he needs the time” “Joel you can kill me!”) he’ll still lose them in the end. I think this realization is also what made him stop trying to fight it, which resulted in him killing or almost killing his allies from previous seasons immediately afterwards (stabbing scar in the back and that one scene where grian kinda ominously jumps with a sword like he was about to crit and kill bigb after finding out he had 50 seconds left on his timer). It’s sorta like a way of telling the universe “fine. You win”

Similarly Jimmy. Well. I don’t think I need to explain that one. Even when he was given hope that things could be different, that he could break the curse, he died only a few minutes later. I still hold on to the narrative that the watchers only allowed that to happen to give Jimmy false hope that things can be different only to rip the rug out from under him and drive home the point that he is in a losing battle because by the time of secret life Jimmy was one of the only few people who genuinely still believed he had a chance. Obviously this is not something that can fully be a reality until he goes out first next season so if he doesn’t that’s a little awkward but just work with me here

TLDR; here is reason number 672 on why I believe the bad boys are the most doomed motherfuckers on this server and their alliance is a modern tragedy

#no one will ever hate the bad boys more than the narrative #trafficblr #life series #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #grian #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #the bad boys #secret life #limited life #last life #can you tell the brain rot has gotten really really bad

[misc-obeyme]

Tbh CC, I don't think MC is still in love with the brothers after everything that's happened,,, thinking about it, it feels more and more like MC is just putting up with the brothers and taking care of them rather than loving them

Imagine MC admitting their love for the brothers died a long time ago and now they're just here to keep things in check, what do you think would happen?

Oh hey Lucifer, bringing me the angst today I see! Ouchies!

I think it probably depends on the MC involved. Generic OM MC is highly tolerant, slightly crazy, and somehow insanely resilient. They've definitely been through a lot and I think it's interesting to note that they have never once had any kind of emotional breakdown. They've had little outbursts here and there, but that's about it.

I think part of this is due to the story format. We've got a situation where MC is a character that doesn't say or do much. They're very reactionary in general.

But if we consider how this same story might go if it was a specific MC, one who was a fully fleshed out character, things can change dramatically. And there is absolutely a chance that MC could fall out of love with the brothers or even not fall in love with them to begin with.

It's kinda funny because I have a preference for the side characters in general and I think it's because they don't need MC to take care of them. The brothers are all very demanding and don't like when MC isn't with them all the time. But the side characters have their own stuff going on and are independent. They're all still hopelessly in love with MC, but they don't rely on MC the same way the brothers do.

But let's consider the scenario where one day MC has reached their limit. They don't explode or anything, but they quietly admit that their love has died and they only stick around out of obligation.

The thing about this is that I think all the brothers would have picked up on it before this moment, but some of them wouldn't know what was happening and others would. For instance, I see Lucifer and Asmo just sorta being like yeah we expected this. Whereas Mammon and Levi would be like okay we knew something was up, but we didn't think it was this!

I think at that point, the brothers would do all they could to change things. They can all be idiots and they get carried away and often cause MC more stress than anything. But I think if they knew how MC felt, that they were feeling this way, they would try to change.

It might not work. These demons are old and old people are often set in their ways. It might be hard for them to change. Then again, they were also created to live as long as they do, so perhaps they're better at adapting than humans are. Maybe they would find it isn't so hard for them to make the changes they need to in order to have MC be more comfortable again.

The problem is that even if they succeed in changing their behaviors, that doesn't mean MC will love them again. No matter what the brothers do, MC won't be able to make themselves love again. It's not impossible, but it's not something that's predictable, either.

I think part of the solution would be MC spending time away from them. Whether that's staying in the Devildom, but living somewhere else such as the castle or Purgatory Hall or going back to the human world, I think it would require some time apart.

I think a lot of times people fall out of love because they change in different directions. So if MC has changed, but the brothers haven't, that could be the cause. It could be that MC and the brothers have both changed, but differently enough that they no longer have that same chemistry from before. And sometimes you just can't fix it.

MC would have to make their choice at that point. If they all spent some time apart, then the brothers actively tried to change, but MC still finds that they aren't in love with them anymore, then MC has to decide. They have to decide if it's worth spending the rest of their life taking care of a bunch of demons who have already managed to survive a long time without them and who will likely live on far after they're gone. If MC is still mortal, they may decide they don't have time for that. Maybe they'll permanently move in to the castle or Purgatory Hall. I think that has a lot of angst potential because they'd still see the brothers a lot, but it'd be like there go my seven exes lol.

Ahhh it's such a sad scenario! And there are a lot of ways it could go, depending on the MC involved. My MC is more likely to lose their shit way before it ever got to this point so I can't even imagine it with them lol. But a quieter MC who feels the responsibility of being everything the demons expect them to be might certainly stick around long enough.

Anyway, this is getting lengthy, but I think it'd be a difficult time for all if this happened. The brothers might try to fix things, but I think in the end everybody would want MC to make the right choice for themselves.

#it's hard not to complain about the story itself #because I think MC would absolutely have had some kind of break down by now #considering all the nonsense they've constantly had to go through #but it's always leave it to me! and let me do the nice thing! and only occasionally I'm gonna break this door down! #anyway #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #avatar0fpr1de #cc mutuals #misc answers

[acceleracers-baby]

Acceleracers HC’s! Game Night! Teku Edition!

Teku

(Nolo Pasaro, Vert Wheeler, Shirako Takamoto, Kurt Wylde & Karma Eiss)

+Bonus Round

(Brian Kadeem & Banjee Castillo)

Teku

Nolo Pasaro - Growing up, Nolo had a pack of Bicycle brand playing cards and a dream. Now, he can run a whole game night with nothing but that same pack of cards. In fact, he does it regularly. Poker, Rummy, War, you name it. He knows the rules like the back of his hand. His all time favorite however, is Spoons. No matter who’s playing, it always gets absurdly intense. He loves watching everyone scramble to snatch a spoon when a suit of four is thrown down. The Teku are definitely intense, but it only gets worse when the rivalry between them and the Metal Maniac turns friendly, and they start getting invited to join. On the other hand, watching Mark practically throw himself over the table in an effort to snatch a spoon before his brother could grab one has got to be one of the funniest things he’s ever witnessed.

Very Wheeler - Skate 3 connoisseur. Vert fucking LOVES Pictionary. Like I don’t know to explain to y’all how hard this dude laughs watching people’s interpretations of what the original prompt was devolve into sometimes completely unrelated or ridiculous. Vert has even taken to throwing in some of his own prompts just to mix the game up a bit. For example- “Worlds Greatest Driver” was a prompt that Kurt got to start with. Obviously, he drew a stick figure version of himself. Mark was right after him, so seeing the shitty stick version of his brother, he just wrote down “bastard.” It devolved further from there. Another fun one was when Banjee got the prompt “Fast & Furious” and forgot that the movies existed, so he just drew Taro under the pretense that he fit description.

Shirako Takamoto - Shirako is a master at Mario Party. It’s gotten to the point where it’s basically everyone vs. Shirako whenever they play. He’s just too good at all the mini games. They will actively try and sabotage him and it doesn’t even matter, he’ll still end the game with the most stars collected. He has the strats!!! On top of that, he’s also unusually good at Scrabble for some reason. People assume it has something to do with all the music he listens to, but really he just plays it online all the time, so when game night rolls around he just destroys everyone. Vert lost his mind when Shirako played the word “quixotic” once. He was convinced Shirako was just making up words for high scores, but lo and behold, they looked it up and it’s a legal word to play!

Kurt Wylde - King of pit maneuvering people off the track ironically enjoys the game Sorry. The joy he feels booting someone back to the start is only matched by the excitement he feels during a race. He literally is such a rude bastard (lovingly). He is 100% the type of player to always boot the same person back to start just to mess with them. In his mind, less competition means a better chance at winning. Uno is a very close second. He will legit sit on those +2 & +4 cards and just wait to ruin someone’s day. “Oh you’re about to call uno? Go ahead and pick up the whole deck.” Like Vert, he also takes some liberties with those ‘make your own rule’ cards. They’re always so targeted too. Stuff like ‘let Monkey drive your car or pick up 25 cards’ and ‘get Taro to talk for more than 5 minutes or swap a hands with who’s losing.”

Karma Eiss - Battleship baby!! She is the queen of strategy games especially when it comes to stuff that involves reading people. Like, by the time someone hits one of her ships, she’s usually got half their fleet wiped out. People have tells. The closer she is to whoever she’s playing with, the faster the game goes. Particularly with people who wear their hearts on their sleeves. Vert and Nolo are the easiest to beat by far. Vert always tries to laugh or talk about something else when Karma hits close to one of his ships and Nolo over compensates. Kurt’s a little harder to beat because he’s got a pretty good poker face, but Shirako is definitely the hardest. Due to him constantly just vibing, he’s nearly impossible to read.

Bonus Round

Brian Kadeem - Kadeem’s a big Jenga guy. It’s so simple, yet so fun. His favorite part is when the tower is getting ridiculous tall and precarious so anytime anyone reachers for a block everyone goes silent and tense, watching to see if they’ll be next person to knock it down. It helps that Kadeem has impressively steady hands too. Like, this dude could have been a doctor if he really wanted to. Twister comes in at a close second. I feel like Kadeem is pretty flexible so the game is more entertaining than it is challenging. He loves being the one to spin the wheel because it gives him time to cackle at his friends getting all twisted up. Seriously, halfway through the game when everyone’s practically stacked on top of each other, Kadeem is usually laughing so hard that he’s on the ground with them.

Banjee Castillo - Banjee is the literal king of Mario Cart. He loves it so much he will unironically put on the Coconut Mall theme song sometimes while he’s driving. He swears it makes him go faster. It definitely doesn’t, but don’t tell him that. Banjee always knows the best cart combos and where all the best short cuts are. He usually finishes WAY ahead of all the other drivers, which always leads to some light hearted banter about how he should be as good as he is in the game on the actual track. Sometimes, he will purposely hang back or false start so that way he can use items to mess with the other players. Red shells are the best but after hours of gameplay, Banjee has gotten deadly accurate with the green shells too. Nobody is safe.

——— Thanks for Reading! ———

#hot wheels #acceleracers #hot wheels acceleracers #hot wheels highway 35 #acceleracers headcanons #hot wheels hcs #hot wheels fanfic #acceleracers fanfic #kurt wylde #vert wheeler #nolo pasaro #shirako takamoto #karma eiss #Brian Kadeem #banjee castillo

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The ongoing rewatch got me thinking about Felegami and how to make Felix feel like less of a consolation prize/Adrien replacement, which reminded me of an idea that I am never going to write, but wanted to toss out there: Adrigami fake dating AU where it's legitimate fake dating with no romance involved.

We introduce the arranged marriage stuff as early as season two or three, but it's immediately clear to almost everyone that this relationship is dead in the water. Adrien's heart is already Ladylocked and Kagami thinks that Adrien is too soft, silly, indecisive, passive, etc. However, Kagami also wants to do normal teenage things without upsetting her mom, so she's like, "Adrien, we are going to enter a non-romantic dating relationship so that we can experience traditional non-romantic teenage milestones and activities without upsetting our parents. Do you have any issues with this arrangement?"

And Adrien is totally onboard because he also wants to do those things, especially once he learns that Kagami doesn't care if he invites his friends along. Friends are a standard part of being a teenager, so clearly they will only enhance the experience. (Up to you if Marinette knows all of this from the start or if you want to have some drama in this part of the story as she tries to do a Frozer and support Adrien's new "romance" which mostly consists of Kagami wanting to do things like try every flavor of ice cream at Andre's while Adrien sighs longingly over his Ladybug ice cream, firmly cementing Kagami's initial reaction of "hard pass").

So we stick to canon for the most part, there's just no angst for Kagami and Adrigami never has a breakup arc in season 4. Kagami keeps "dating" Adrien until mid season 5 when Felix shows up. That's when Adrigami publicly breaks up because Kagami is like, "Sorry mom, there's a overly-dramatic dark broody version and that is everything that I've ever wanted, why am I only learning about him now? You have all failed me! I must go to him. Besides, Adrien's in love with Marinette and I don't want people to think that he's cheating on me. She can have the pretty-boy pushover. I'm gonna go make out and do crime!"

Meanwhile Felix is just like "No! I thought Adrien got all of the simp-for-powerful-woman-in-red genes! What's happening to me?"

#feligami #suffering through a rewatch of season 5 for love of my so

[hyperfixations-and-hecticness]

howdy OP :) i truly adore your writing (oml you really bless us all 😤 with your musings),,,,, would it be possible to request satan with: AH FLY! (sorry the letters rearranged themselves like that)… :) thank you always for the writing you make that enriches the OM community/fandom! hope you have a lovely day 8)

A, H, F, L AND Y ALPHABET EVENT WITH SATAN

Activities- What activities do they like to do with you?

- A lot of the time, people around him narrow Satan’s interests down to books and cats but honestly there’s a lot of other things he like to do involving you. In terms of dates, they’re always interesting and enriching. He’ll take you to museums and galleries and explain the origins of things. Or just a nice walk somewhere where he points out different flora and fauna and their medicinal properties.

- Of course, he loves reading with you and watching your favourite shows together. You guys do little bingo boards with your predictions for the series and the winner gets to dare the other to do something. It usually ends up being something absolutely toothrottingly sweet.

- He likes studying with you. Knowledge makes him feel powerful and he wants his brilliant SO to feel indomitable too.

Habits - What habits do they have in a relationship?

- He often just gravitates toward you. Not always consciously but he just finds your presence reassuring so he ends up just being in your orbit a lot. And not so much in an intrusive way, he’s usually just in the background.

- He always opens doors for you and pulls out your chair etc. Doesn’t matter what gender you are, gentlemen are chivalrous irregardless of their SO’s gender. And Satan is nothing if not a gentleman.

- Texts you good morning and good night every day, it’s part of his routine at this point.

- Puts aside books he thinks you’ll like in a special pile.

Family - Would they want a family with you?

- Satan has a fair few issues to sort through before he thinks about having a family with you. He wants to be sure that if you were ever to start a family, that his own past wouldn’t get in the way of raising a child surrounded by love and acceptance. His biggest fear in parenting is the thought that he could raise a child who hates him like he did Lucifer or, worse, is afraid of him.

- But all in all, he really does want a family with you. He loves his brothers, he does, but they have a lot of history, especially with Lilith, that he doesn’t share and it can get lonely sometimes being the only demon who never even got the chance to be an angel. He’d love a family that he chose, unlike the rest of his brothers, it wasn’t his choice to fall. He’d like a chance to have a family that feels 100% his.

- If you have kids, those are going to be the best defended little dudes to ever exist. Satan is the blueprint for the over protective father. His kids aren’t afraid of him, to them he’s just their sweet and brilliant dad, but if anyone ever hurts his kids? Oh boy they’re DEAD dead.

Love - Who said I love you first?

- He did. Satan takes pride in being well aware of his emotions and strives for honesty in a relationship as well as trust. And unlike Lucifer, he doesn’t have his pride getting in the way of saying it.

- But it still takes a while for him to say it. I mean, Satan’s read a lot of romance books in his time. He knows all the cliches and once he realises he’s in love with you, he spends a long while ensuring that his confession is perfect and suited to you as a person. He may base it off of a book you both love or bring you flowers you like.

- He’s a romantic through and through and he tries to remind you at least once a day he loves you. Not always verbally though, he’ll stick little post-its on your textbooks with cute little messages and stuff like that.

Yearning - What are they like when they miss their partner?

- He gets angry more easily. His SO is a calming presence for him and he doesn’t like being without you. He also spends more time irritating Lucifer. The reasons for this are twofold: one, it makes him feel better; two, if he annoys Lucifer enough when you’re gone, Lucifer will start making an active effort to have you around as much as possible.

- He’s constantly texting you and does that thing where he annotates one of your favourite books for you so you can read it and think of him. If you do the same he turns bright pink, it’s adorable.

- Sits in your room when he’s just studying or doing random stuff. He doesn’t like sleeping in there without you but your room is so infused with your presence that he’ll spend time there anyway.

AN: Aww, thanks anon. It makes me so happy when people say they like my writing, it makes me much more motivated to finish requests quickly and everything. Also lmk if you like the headcanons cause I always get worried about that with anon requests. Anyway obligatory reminder that requests are open and comments are appreciated. This event is still open but I’m closing it once I reach 250 in favour of a new event which I’m taking suggestions for if you wanna drop some in the inbox.

#obey me x reader #obey me #om! swd #obey me stuff #hyper’s hcs #satan x you #satan x reader #obey me satan #satan x mc #hyper’s alphabet

[cannibalkissies]

🙉🎯🎲🦮 for butch and howard :o) -hamsterwife 💛

OH YEAH ... this one deserves a "read more"!!

🙉 - what songs or sounds do you associate with your s/i? what sounds do they like? what sounds do they hate? (X) For Butch I associate him with the sounds of cows mooing or just like a wire fence kind of rattling against itself. And literally just today I've been putting Two of Hearts by Stacey Q on repeat and thinking about Howard!!

(X) As for what sounds they like and hate, Butch loves the sound of the bones in Bubba's front room clanking together. He also loves the sound of Bubba's bracelet clanking on whatever surface it comes in contact with, like the countertop. Butch hates Bubba's chainsaw noise when he's like right next to him, but he's neutral with it when he's off in the distance. He really hates being directly involved with the butchering stuff, so anything directly associated with it he stays out of it and dislikes the sounds involved. Which is wild cuz he doesn't mind chopping up people for the family and making meals out of them ajsdlkfjdsfjla GRANPA EATIN GOOD !!!

(X) Howard loves the sound of Bill breathing as he drifts off to sleep, along with the rustling of the sleeping bag he's cozied up in next to him. And this is a given, but he hates the garbled noises zombies let out while they're searching for their next meal.

🎯 - is there anything your s/i is incredibly good at? or incredibly bad at?

(X) Hehe, Butch is really good at making different meals for the family! When he offered to help cook, Drayton was like "holy shit this guy's a life saver" because he was the only mf in that kitchen LOL but he makes more than chili and dips into some like Tex-Mex recipes. He's also very talented at guitar; he was a famous musician before he was kidnapped and nearly killed. Now he makes food and plays guitar for GRANPA; usually Drayton wanders in and listens and nods his head to the music. As for things Butch is bad at? I think he's bad at composing himself. When he hears someone screaming when Bubba and Nubbins is on the verge of killing them, he freaks out and has to shut himself away upstairs or somewhere else. It does make him realize that it's not completely fun and games where he's at, but once he calms down and the noises stop, he's less meltdown-y about his situation.

(X) HOWARD !!!! Howard is so good at survival. He was completely alone and living off the land perfectly fine before Bill. Howard is kind of a nerd and used to read a bunch of survival books and camp with barely anything for fun. Yeah, one of those old guys. So when the apocalypse came on, he was totally prepared and thrived in his crumbling environment. And what he's bad at? Unfortunately he's terrible at physical activity. He can't carry Bill. He can't sprint without pulling something (even in his younger years). He's definitely not flexible.

🎲 - name a weird skill your s/i has that you don’t.

(X) Butch is good at throwing hatches and making them stick to what he's throwing them at (like a log or tree). I literally can't do that.. granted I tried with knives, but I doubt hatches are any easier.

(X) It's not particularly weird, but more-so important to survival, but he can do that thing where you gather dirty water in a container and have it evaporate and drip into your collecting container so it's clean water... I've never tried that but I just know I'd accidentally give myself dysentery.

🦮 - does your s/i have accessibility needs? does your s/i take care of anyone? what accommodations in their life have they made for other’s?

(X) Butch goes nonverbal from time to time. And because Bubba is nonverbal 100% of the time (AUTISM WIN) he knows some sign language and nonverbal communication that helps him "talk" with Bubba, Nubbins, and Drayton when he can't verbalize. Also whenever Bubba is having a meltdown, Butch has noticed he tries to hit his own head, so he gently talks to him about things Bubba likes and he puts a gentle touch on his hands to ease him out of self harm.

(X) Howard knows Bill has an injured knee, but he's literally not a surgeon. So he tried his best to gather scraps of wood and metal here and there and construct him a custom fit splint for Bill's knee so he has less pressure on the joint until they can get to someone who can actually help.

#THANK YOU MY DEAR!!!!! #asks #self insert #self shipping community #self ship #self shipping #farm boys #left 4 love #si: howard #si: butch #fo: bubby #fo: bill #bubba sawyer #bill overbeck #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm #left 4 dead #l4d #tw self harm mention

[multitrackdrifting]

some writing notes on my ishigami video

it's nice that akasaka aka points out that kaguya is very different to when she was the "ice queen" (hayasaka says this early on), and one of the first serious chapters with her that isn't about shirogane is helping ishigami study

she knows he's not lazy or disinterested because he's stupid and incapable of learning, but because his foundational learning was disrupted by his absence from middle school due to being unable to write an apology

she recognises that his games and stuff are a distraction to his studies, which is like, yeah, she is right about that since he has treated them as a crutch to bide his time.

she sticks up for ishigami to girls gossiping about him and tries to beat him into shape by helping him study every single day so he passes and recognises how the rumours, the distractions & his ethic that result from that stop him from doing well - while he doesn't magically get straight As, it's apparent that with the right support he could start to study better and while that seems like "well why does he have to? people have different strengths"

ishigami used to be athletic (being the fastest runner in his year), and while he wasn't a top ranked student or anything like that, his traumatic experience in middle school and the rumours that resulted from it definitely drive his disinterest with studies to be far worse than that. which is why having kaguya in his corner for numerous exams is so nice cause while she cares about defeating shirogane in exams, she doesnt place that desire above the real possibility that ishigami could fail to graduate and while he doesn't need a job or even money because of his dad, it also means he would be even more isolated and unable to connect with people his age. everyone is talking about their futures, their grades, their exams, and ishigami is more or less absent from that kind of idle banter

studying is a pretty social activity for some people, they make study groups for exams, chill at study hall and whatnot and idk, ishigami is barely involved in student life in the beginning so going from studying to avoid failing, to joining a club, to actually trying to enjoy his days as a kid since he's still only 15 (16 by the time the seniors graduate), he starts to appreciate it at the perfect time

when it comes to ethic and stuff like that i think people are quick to call others lazy and stuff cause of our preconceptions about them, but ishigami would still be worth helping even if he had no trauma or history that made it difficult to learn i think.

i think that the way that things are structured arent suited to the needs of people who struggle to learn, and the ways that they can catch up aren't even like actual failsafes built into schools and universities either. that you can't really catch up and succeed in school if you miss any classes and get someone's notes or something means that if you sit outside of the social structure of it, you are just doomed to fail if you miss anything at all and have nobody to ask and your professor is unhelpful about it

idk, that arc was really nice and im glad it expands to ishigami gradually becoming more motivated to study, not just to impress his crush, but because kaguya believed that there was hope for him in his academics where he had more or less all but given up for three years.

you dont have to have good grades to have self-worth but its more about integrating back into school life that's really hard for him - you don't really have to reconcile it with your beliefs about school as an institution for getting a job cause that's not really relevant to his personal circumstances. ishigami is rich, he don't need a job, he just wants to overcome his inferiority complex and trauma to just, have a normal school life. its not about what comes next per se, but making sure that the life that he lives now is one where he is not afraid to do things. whether he comes to regret what he does, it's much worse to live a life where you never take risks and just resign yourself to the box people shoved you into

he talks badly of normies and people with success in romance, clubs and academics because part of him wants to have the courage to do the same but its just easier to call yourself human trash and joke about killing yourself a lot for him.

when he talks about miko during the elections, he expresses how much he hates it when people talk shit about people who do their best like passion is something you can laugh at, and internally, he recognises this is hypocritical when he joins the cheer club that he dismisses their passion as bullshit so he puts himself in uncomfortable situations to start walking the path to becoming the fucking goat

most things that will help you grow are excruciating, long-winded habit building exercises that will help you endure in the long run and that's why it's so fucking cathartic to see him continually take steps to better his life as things go on

he doesn't magically get rewarded for making his life one that he feels proud of, but in doing so, he experiences the rewards of coming out of his shell and moving from self-deprecating introvert gag guy to someone with better emotional expression and ability to connect with others, someone who actually knows he doesn't deserve to live life in isolation, without antyhing to be proud of. he doesn't just get handed unearned Ws, he has plenty of fumbles and awkward experiences, but to be able to endure that and keep living with his head held high surrounded by people he confidently calls his friends is just pure kino

[sparklingpax]

In Relativity

A/n:

-I could not, for the life of me, figure out a better title. You get that. Not even sure if that's what I mean and I'm so sorry. But I am also not taking suggestions

-being absolutely serious, a good 90% of this was written during my health class and/or lunch periods in which I wasn't hungry.

-i am so sorry for typos and grammar stuff I probably fucked up, please please try ignore it if you see it, I'll fix it eventually 😳

-this is so incredibly long, I'm realizing. It's like 30+ pages...sorry--

-a few specific details I'd like to point out:

no, this is not 110% accurate to Masterforce canon, tho I tried my darndest. Part of the reason is lack of clear answers about certain questions I have or limited access to sources that would help me figure out details of their pasts more accurately. The other reason is that I'm also actively choosing not to adhere to some details because I was ultimately writing for fun and experimenting with tone and how I perceive these characters so...do not lecture me about something I screwed up, I am literally just vibing ok

This is still set in Masterforce canon, however. This has nothing (I repeat, nothing) to do with any of the marvel stuff/American comic stuff that involved these characters. It's my understanding that the versions of these characters in Masterforce are their own separate entity to the comic stuff, I am trying to stick only to the anime and stuff connected to that. so....yea

It is my headcanon that I will absolutely keep that the Pretenders have in their files/any technical stuff their "full names" (e.g: "Cloudburst"), but refer to each other with their nicknames (going back to that example, "Phoenix"). It's like, they use both names whenever and don't mind either way. Hence......that.

I wanted to write something about Landmine, literally that was it. I guess overall I'd call it semi-Landmine-centric....Idk but I enjoyed it, he's a cool dude 👀

this is in fact, where i finally reveal myself as a person who also Lowkey ships Lander/Diver and also the idea that they have this...very complicated relationship with each other, which is why they've never really gotten together....I hc that they actually do finally get together at some point during the events of Masterforce (which I also, really want to write). Yes, this is very similar to them in my AU except it's not as complicated as the one in canon. If that makes sense 😳 Also, before you come for my head, it is a healthy relationship in the sense that there has never been any malice between them, and no instances of causing the other serious pain in any way. They like each other a lot, but both don't really know...how to go about it. Idk y'all but ykw I know what I mean. 

I tried so hard with terminology here but my dumb ass doesn't know anything about tech or aircrafts or whatever so...deal with it but don't point it out I'll evaporate--

Upon much consideration, I decided to end it somewhere like, before events of masterforce. I'd say a couple years maybe?? Like 15?? (So tha puts us at 2005, which as I'm writing this omg that's my birth year oop--) So just. assume stuff happened and...following will be the other canon stuff....i guess o//o

So...yea, that should be everything I wanted to mention!

Enjoy (? Or don't? ;w;)....I wrote this for fun & I kinda liked it I guess, so here I am sharing it...lmk what you think if you want, please keep it positive, I get so extremely nervous sharing my writing sdjdsjsdj 😳

...um...so...t-thanks 🥰

That’s what Landmine had been told the first day of Cybertronian Military Academy. 

///

Above all else, a good spark stands for justice, protects all life, and does what’s right. 

It was a phrase taught and repeated every day without fail, quickly memorized well before the end of first semester in that first year.

And when he’d entered Autobot ranks within mere weeks of his graduation amidst the start of the war, it was a phrase shouted to his unit by their commanding officer, only slightly altered this time. 

“Above all else, a good Autobot stands for justice, protects all life, and does what’s right.”

Yes, that was it. Just a slight change. 

But he always wondered if it meant to subconsciously induce very particular thoughts.

‘And if we Autobots do good, then the ones who aren’t us must be doing evil.’ 

To name a few of the supposed many, that was the Decepticons, the rogues, and the subspecies of the planet who didn’t feel inclined to participate in such a “selfish conflict,” as one commentator had put it during a newscast. They were the evil ones, preached the drill sergeants and captains.

The logical conclusion, as it could be surmised. No one said anything about moral. 

As for Landmine himself, he had no problem with “standing for justice,” however vague that was. Considering the lack of any attention, it seemed he was in line with that value, not standing out from the rest and all. 

The case was the same with “protecting all life.” After all, that was a clearer command, and obviously, the noble thing to do. Landmine liked his friends, nature, animals. Of course he’d stand to protect them. 

But for the last one, in the in-betweens to his drills and assignments, throughout all the years of his schooling and the time spent in the trenches of battles, he often wondered what it meant. To “do what’s right.” 

What was a…‘good Autobot’ anyway? 

He could recall the answers he’d received. 

“It means you follow orders,” one older bot spat, laughing. He had then put the ratty cigar back in his mouth and turned away. Clearly, the conversation was over. 

“A good Autobot?” Echoed a solemn youth, shining his shotgun. “Well its in the words you’ve just said! A good Autobot stands for justice, and they protect all–” 

…you get the idea.

“There are none,” was all a small-framed purple bot croaked, taking another sip from his oil can. He’d died on the field, screaming in agony, about one week later. 

And there were more answers, and Landmine still couldn’t figure out his own. But there were more pressing matters in his mind. Firstly, the matter of leaving this dull, doomed unit. 

See, he was a bot who enjoyed adventure, thought himself particularly good in battle. He was known for good one-liners, for his looks, and his sharp shots. This wasn’t the place for him. At the risk of being prideful and conceited, he often thought to himself, that this was no place for him to die. 

It was ugly, style-less, depressing, cold, damp…boring. 

For years, he hoped for more, and finally one day, he got it. 

“Hey!” 

…

“Oh yeah? Well you can take your attitude, and shove it up your tailpipe, Xy.” 

“‘Hey’ yourself, you're not part of this, so butt out you aft–” 

“Aft? Excuse me? I’ve a good mind to report you for that kind of slander and harassment!”

“What?! I didn’t slander you!! I'm not even harassing you, I just insulted you, but--but that's subjective, a-and I didn’t say –”

“Shut up, you two! There’s someone knocking.”

Landmine lifted his gaze from the book he was reading when he heard Klint shout for everyone to quiet down. 

As usual, it was another night in his section base–of the hot-head rookie Cinderflame being aggressive towards “two-word” Xy, and then somehow, getting into an argument with the self-important, self-declared “rulebook” of their subunit, Max. 

But the knocking at their door continued, louder this time. Cinderflame started to protest, and was quickly silenced a quick cuff to the back of his head by Max. 

Landmine closed his book very slowly and sat up in his bunk, watching as Klint quietly got up and headed to the door, activating his gun. Meanwhile, everyone else began to tense up, including Landmine. 

It wasn’t unheard of for mutinies to happen, for somebot to snap and go on a killing rampage, or for the enemy to have infiltrated and quietly taken command of a base. Any number of things could be behind the door, as it wasn’t normal to get a knock on the door at this hour of the night. 

But to their relief, the entity behind the door identified itself. 

“14-E, I order you–open up! Right now!”

Klint lowered his gun and sighed, more an annoyed sigh than a relieved one. They all knew who’s voice that was, and Landmine wanted–and was sure he had–no part in whatever was happening. 

‘Racker,’ mouthed Cinderflame in Xy’s direction, who rolled his optics and went back to organizing bullet shells. 

The other “rulebook” bot, except Racker was official, not self-declared. 

“I’ll mark you all for infractions!” He shouted in an attempt at an assertive tone, pounding unceasingly at the door. 

“I’ll mark you with my fist,” muttered Klint, trudging over. As he did so, Cinderflame snickered, then looked to Max, who was trying his best to keep a serious expression. Even he had no respect for the elected section head, but didn’t want to admit that. 

Well, I’m out, thought Landmine as he fell against his berth and opened his book again, hoping to get back to the story, detaching from the group.

He had no such luck, of course. 

The door opened at last with a high-pitched squeal of old metal, and the section head marched in, shouting for them to stand at attention. Below, Cinderflame gave the beginning of a groan, but it was cut short with the sound of someone elbowing him. 

 See, there was no such procedure in the rulebook, Landmine had discovered a while ago. But, there was also no point in raising that argument now. Begrudgingly, the group all followed the order and lined up at the door. 

Marching in stiffly, the grey-plated bot looked them up and down, a sharp look in his eyes. Then, he stated his business. 

Landmine was wanted in the unit Commander’s quarters.

For a moment, he considered it was some sort of elaborate prank, but that thought was quite fleeting. Jokes of that kind weren’t common around this sector, if at all. 

And if Racker was involved, well…

Doubt he knows what a joke is. 

“Well don’t stand there, move your metal hide!”

“Yes, sir!”

He felt side-eyed gazes of pity on him as he left the line. He felt them follow him as he walked out the door closely behind Racker, and into the barren, darkened clearing. But he was far more curious than worried. He could have easily run ahead to those quarters himself. 

Leaving Racker in the dust was quite easy, anyway. 

…

Racker, expression solemn and blank as ever, stopped at the white door and jerked his helm in the direction of the entrance, then folded his arms and turned forward, as if Landmine was no longer there. 

Go in. Alright. 

Landmine smirked to himself, then reached over and pushed the door open. 

Well. If I’m court-martialed or something, at least I’ll finally be put out of my misery. 

“Good evening, sir,” Landmine said, striding into the room. “You asked for me?” 

He’d never been in a commander’s quarters, and just taking one look at the state of it, he could infer why.

Something to do with the cleanliness of it, the quality of the tools in it…lower-ranking officers certainly had no place here, he could guess.

We belong in our cramped spaces, eating stale oil in our shared, low-rank misery. 

And finally, his optics had fallen on the commander himself, Swipecatch. 

Come to think of it, Landmine was sure he’d only seen the bot once. Or maybe he had a new paintjob? 

I’d like a new paintjob. 

He saluted and straightened his posture before the silver-blue-plated bot finally looked up from a manila-colored folder with messy scrawling and red stamps. It looked like it was important. 

It also looked like a processor-ache to decipher. 

“I did. You’re Landmine, right?” The commander spoke a medium tone, reaching for another paper on the side of the desk and picking up a slim, red pen.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re a Pretender, are you not?”

"Alright," he murmured, beginning to write something, before glancing back up at the younger bot. “At ease,” he finally added, and Landmine was glad for it.

His gaze was immediately back on the paper as he started to write something into the blank lines. Some more silence followed, broken only by the sound of the pen against the paper, and Landmine watched as he swiftly filled out every blank space, signed his name, then looked back up again. 

“I am told I have such capabilities, sir.” 

“And have you been to training for it?”

“Only at a minimum level, as per my curriculum at the academy, sir.”

“Have you yet attained your third form?”

“I have not been provided any such opportunity up to this point, sir.” 

“Uh-huh…”

Swipecatch nodded, seeming to come to some kind of internal conclusion and writing something in the corner of the paper, before stamping the paper and folding it in half. Landmine began to wonder if he was being disciplined. 

“Soldier, you have been requested to join a special dispatch team made only of three other Pretenders like yourself.” 

Or…this. 

“Now, I can’t imagine you love this place enough to do this, but you do have the option to decline and remain at your post here, as it will be a very dangerous, long-term assignment, far from Cybertron and even this very sector.

“You four will only be provided one ship and instructions to report to us when asked, as we are not able to provide further resources. You will be sent into space to track Decepticon ships anywhere deemed fit to assign your team.”

He eyed Landmine up and down, who stood motionless, staring unwaveringly at his commander as he waited for him to continue. So he did.  

“Your...commander will be a recent academy graduate, Metalhawk. I am not at liberty to share anything more about him than this.” 

He shifted back in his chair, tapping his pen against the table.

“Since I take your…silence…to be an acceptance of this offer…” he said slowly, holding out the folded paper and letting Landmine take it. “I am giving you this now, so that you may board the next transport ship that comes in tomorrow, at first light.”

Landmine unfolded the paper a bit, catching sight of the orders written in fine print above the uneven writing of his commander. 

Previous commander, actually. 

“This is not a promotion, merely a new assignment that my higher-ups feel you are equipped for. There will also be a training period with your peers starting the moment you are all gathered at your launch site. Do you understand?”

“Fully, sir!”

“Alright, then. Dismissed.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

 He vaguely wondered if the sound the commander made after that was a laugh or a scoff. 

 Landmine saluted again, and left the room, clutching the paper in his digits, which had begun to vibrate with excitement. 

Suddenly, all the years of stale oil and bleak death around him, putting up with various groupings that never seemed to work out–with this doomed unit–seemed worth it. They’d been part of some plan, something Landmine had to go through for a while before this, before…

 Destiny. It has finally called my name. 

…

“Mighty lucky, aren’t you?” Klint remarked, leaning against the wall and watching Landmine stacking a couple books. 

Landmine simply looked up and grinned.

 “Stay alive,” Xy mumbled from his bunk, not even shifting position to look at the team as they gathered in the center of the space. 

 His inspirational capacities truly sway the spark. 

“Thank you, Xy. I’ll do my best.”

The mech raised a thumbs-up, making no further comment. 

“This is favoritism!”

“It is not. It’s the will of our higher command.”

“Well, don’t you think it’s unfair?”

“Shut your trap!” Max made a fist and took a step towards Cinderflame. “Questioning high command could be treason!”

“Oh shove off, you annoying glitch.”

"I beg your pardon?!"

"Yeah, I said it!" 

Klint groaned, facepalming slowly. Xy, in his bunk, put on some headphones and inched closer to the wall.

As usual, not even an hour after wakeup calls, and the two were at it again. But while Landmine conceded he wouldn't miss the unwarranted noise, he knew he would miss being able to laugh internally at their stupidity. 

Cinderflame kicked at the ground and glared at Landmine, who was closing his bag and picking it up. 

“We have to stay in the scrap," he muttered, "but he gets to be special! He gets to–”  

Knocking at the door quieted the room. 

In the brief silence, Landmine wondered how pompous he'd sound telling Cinderflame that he was, in fact, a special bot. 

He decided it wasn't worth the breath.

"It's time to go!" Came the voice from behind the steel.

Landmine stood tall, strapping the bag to his back and heading outside, without a second look to his scrappy unit, who no doubt would forget his existence quite soon. 

“Landmine?” The gruff, unfamiliar mech asked, looking at the Pretender. 

“That’s me.” Landmine then noticed the markings on the sides of his Autobot insignia, certifying him as a higher-ranking officer. “That’s me, sir,” he revised evenly.  

The officer narrowed his yellow-green optics, almost skeptically. Then he spoke again. “We’re driving a while, two hours at longest. You fueled yet?”

Landmine nodded, feeling his excitement start to build. 

Naturally, the place where any transports or supply ships landed would be miles and miles from any camp, for security reasons. Only superior officers would know supply drop-off locations. One could imagine such things were carefully coordinated long before a ship's arrival.

It was then that Landmine recalled he’d never once been on a supply run.

And, he guessed, he'd never find out what it was like. But he was cool with that.

“Right. Let’s move out, then. And stay close to me.”

That won’t be a problem, sir, Landmine thought, excited for the opportunity to spin his wheels. 

He also thought himself quite proficient in the art of speeding in style.

They both transformed, then sped to the entrance of the barracks. The drive took about an hour, quickly clearing miles of dry, uneven land, until at last, coming upon a ridge, the tip of a large, grey mass could be seen.

He could feel the vibrations of anticipation–of excitement!–growing as the mass became more and more like the shape of a transport ship–his ticket out of this forsaken place. 

Briefly, he began to wonder what the new team was like, what the ship and its resources provided would be, where they'd be assigned first…

Will I see my new commander’s face more than once or twice, whoever it is? 

And at last, they rolled down the sandy-brown rocks and onto the clearing, below the massive overhang of the ship. Landmine could hardly contain himself, and transformed as soon as his wheels came to a smooth halt. 

His superior officer also transformed, drawing up next to him, folding his arms again.

"Well. Off you go." 

He offered a brisk pat on the shoulder pad before trudging off to the left and calling out to one of the smaller mechs in the distance. Landmine reached into the bag strapped to him and fished out the paper before marching up the boarding plate. 

Landmine made it through the security check easily, papers identified, baggage approved, and he found the area in the cargo hold where he was to remain for the duration of the ride. 

“You will not leave this area until we have reached the designated location. We will use force if you cause any trouble. Is that understood?” 

“Yes, sir.”

A cargo hold… 

Well…it was a free ship ride during a war.

Landmine waited for the guard to leave, then walked over and sat down against the wall, well within the space he’d been told to occupy. He held his bag close to his chestplates, wondered if a full power-off would be a good idea, or if the ride would be too short for that. 

It seemed they weren’t going to allow him that information, either. 

 Ah, well, they’ll just have to wake me, then. Who knows if I’ll get a moment’s rest where we’re going anyway? 

 And with a quiet whirring, his systems slowed and he leaned his helm against the wall, slipping into a peaceful powerdown. 

…

It seemed the guard wouldn’t have to come and wake Landmine after all, as the ship came to a halt at its destination with a large thump that shook the ship down to the nails in the wallplates. 

Landmine was instantly ripped from his powerdown, jolted awake as he was thrown forward and then smacked back against the wall again when the vehicle finally halted. Rubbing his helm rather drowsily, he gave a small pout. 

Whoever’s driving should have their piloting license revoked. 

But he immediately recalled where he was and what he was doing, and the excitement returned, grasping his entire body in its hold. Quickly, he grabbed his bag and scrambled to his feet, waiting for someone to come and let him out. 

Be cool, be calm, you’re acting like a giddy sparkling. 

 Right. Steady motions, smooth words. Just as usual. 

And finally, someone did come. Actually, Landmine realized upon listening closer, there were…two sets of footfalls. He wondered if they were maintenance bots, or maybe a pair of workers come to unload the cargo hold, not permit Landmine to leave yet. 

But he remained still, listening to the footsteps, coming closer and closer until–

“He’s in here. You’re…assuming responsibility before he reaches the camp, sir?” 

It was the same guard from before. But then, the other bot with him spoke. 

 “Of course. You know higher-ups don’t give information about assignments, leading to accidents and the like.”

Odd. Was it one of his new teammates? 

He must be higher-ranking than me to have that guard call him “sir.” Or maybe I’m being moved up a few–no, wait. Swipecatch said this isn’t a promotion. But then, why–

Suddenly, the door opened with a weighty hissing noise, and the yellow light from the halls fell upon Landmine, who’d been getting used to the blue shadows of this cargo area. He immediately turned and saluted, watching as the guard walked in first, looked around, then stepped aside. 

In walked a yellow-plated bot, who took one look around, then put a servo on the shoulder pad of the guard. 

“You can go if you like. I gather you’ve more important things to get to, and I know the way off the ship.”

With a small smile and a salute, the guard turned and headed out the door. 

Landmine watched, somewhat amused, as the yellow mech leaned his head out the doorway, calling a thanks to the guard before turning back to Landmine with an awkward kind of smile. 

He actually thanked that guard. How interesting. 

Landmine returned the smile, a little more confidently. 

“Right. Um,” the bot took a deep breath and walked up to Landmine, offering his servo for a handshake. 

“My name is Metalhawk. I will be your new commander. Your other teammates are already aboard the ship.”

 Optics flitting from the outstretched servo to the earnest, blue optics staring back at him, Landmine was beginning to realize something. 

“I understand any previous commanders you’ve served under might have made a point on formalities, but I’m more interested in forming a good team than being addressed as ‘sir’ and the like. So, if you don’t mind, I hope we’ll get to know one another better with time.”

And that realization, was that this had been the right decision indeed, accepting this mission.

To be fair, anything would have been better than staying to fight in the scrapheap of a place he’d previously been.

With that…team of characters to live or die beside.

But Metalhawk seemed to be normal, perhaps even kind.

Plus, if his intuition wasn’t off, most captains, generals, and commanders were on the older side, but this bot…

He must be good to be a commander this young. 

Landmine took his servo and shook it firmly. 

“Glad to be serving with you, Hawk. I’m Landmine.” 

 At the nickname, Metalhawk gave a little grin, seeming to like it. 

 “Alright then, follow me.”

With a friendly chuckle, he headed for the door and immediately started to describe the other two bots Landmine was soon to meet. As they headed down the halls and out of the ship, he quickly learned that an he'd be in the company of two fliers–including his commander–and one sea-faring bot.

An interesting and even balance of alt-modes.

 “...and this is our ship.”

They stopped, and Landmine found himself before a huge mass of shining, silver and white metal. The daylight bounced off it gorgeously, edging the ship in glittery light. The green-blue windows looked as jewels, without a weathering mark or scratch in sight. 

The softer-toned blue highlights on the side plating of the vessel led his eye to the elegantly-painted Autobot symbol on the front hood. 

They might have been given the one ship only, but by Primus, was it a beauty.

Perhaps those old generals weren't all so selfish. 

It could have been some old prison ship with extra canons strapped to it, after all. 

This guy's lucky to be commander and score a ship like this. Something tells me Swipecatch wouldn't know what this is like, and he's been in the game longer.

He almost chuckled aloud before remembering where he was. 

A platform began to lower from the ship’s underside, which hung a little higher than their helms. Standing on it was a familiar face, and Landmine couldn’t help but perk up and exclaim–

“Diver!” 

“Lander!!” 

He felt a warmth surge through him. At last, he was seeing a familiar face again.

Someone he'd really thought, he'd never see again.

“‘Lander’?” Metalhawk echoed, taking a step up to the platform. 

The machinery gave a smooth whirring noise and the platform began to rise off the ground and back into the ship. Landmine could only laugh, letting Waverider answer for him. 

“We were arguing once,” the dark-plated mech said, leaning closer to Landmine. He spoke as if telling a weighty secret. “So I started calling him ‘Lander,’ like for his land-based vehicle mode. He retaliated, calling me ‘Diver.’”

“Because you have a water-based alt.”

“Exactly!”

“‘Diver’ is infinitely more creative, you have to give me that,” Landmine cut in.

“But ‘Lander’ is more direct!” Waverider protested. 

“It’s the most obvious kind of name!”

The three of them shared a laugh. 

That was most of the story, anyway. 

As the three headed down the dimly-lit hallway, Waverider kept talking. He started to tell their commander about their shared academy days, about the classes they took, the things they trained for. 

After a point, he couldn’t quite hear what the mech was talking about, as his mind began to wander.

Landmine recalled in flashes of memory, the moments he'd left out of the story...the days following that ‘argument,’ when they’d made up, and both their ‘insult names’ became somewhat like…pet names.

Calling in the hallways, covertly shifting places during inspections or exercises to stand with one another, sneaking into each other’s dorms, speaking in hushed tones as heat rushed through their systems, as if finally realizing all these feelings which had been for so long already there…

His spark skipped a beat as he gazed at the back of Waverider’s helm.

You never apologized for the way you left.

He tried to push those thoughts away. This wasn’t the time to stir that up. 

But it never matters what the mind wants, the heart will always have its way. Guilt, too. Such a persistent thing, guilt–bent on collection of time spent contemplating the past. 

Sharp like a knife, hidden in shadows of daily happenings, its steely glint appearing every now and then, its blade cutting deep into a wound time has slowly tried to mend. 

Tried to mend. 

But I tried…

Landmine began to wonder again about the truest meaning of “do what’s right” was. If it meant for the other bot or for oneself. If being a “good autobot” carried over into matters of the mind and spark, hidden from the public eye, intimate and…

This is not the time. 

Right. Not the time. 

Rounding the bend, Landmine was surprised to find how quickly they’d made their way to the command center. Considering the direction they’d been going, he guessed it was somewhere near the center of the ship.

Landmine watched as Metalhawk stepped in front of Waverider and reached out to a smooth, blue panel next to the door. 

“In addition to the defaults being set up–which I need to fix–I’m the only one scanned for access right now,” Hawk said with a little smile. The door hissed and started to open. “But by tonight you’ll be scanned to the system as well.”

“And the door will open in seconds, not hours!” 

“Yes, Waverider, it will,” Hawk said, rolling his optics.

Landmine watched as the door finally slid to the side, revealing a polished room with pristine, white floors and walls. Along the sides were blocks of machinery he could only guess was what higher-ups meant when they referred to something as ‘state-of-the-art.’

Except this stuff is state-of-the-art. 

The front of the room had grooves that shaped a large window, wrapping around about half the side walls. Landmine guessed they were retractable for direct visibility during flight. 

We don’t even need the windows open to fly the ship. Magnificent. 

“During your pre-mission training together, you’ll be introduced on a basic level to all the machinery aboard this ship, and I will designate you to certain roles when the need arises.”

Everything sparkled in its modern, symmetrical beauty. It was all new, untouched, and would ideally provide the team with advantages in conflicts to come. At least, far greater than the shabby resources given to camps like the one from which Landmine had just departed. 

Far less could die…

“Yo!” 

Three helms turned as a red-plated mech rose from behind one of the monitor stations near the back of the room. He clapped his servos together to dust them off and stepped out from the station, waving. 

“That was quick,” Metalhawk commented, looking the walls up and down. It was hard to tell what was manually modified and what had been unchanged, but Landmine decided it was best to simply trust that all the devices in the room would preform well when they were needed.

“Well...this is Cloudburst,” he said, gesturing at the mech. 

Cloudburst gave a big grin. 

“He’s just fixed our door problem, and most of the settings on the ship’s machinery,” the commander continued, looking somewhat pleased. 

"He did!!" Waverider called from the open door. He'd immediately run back to test it out.

A mechanic of sorts, Landmine surmised.

And, after a few minutes of talking passed, he found his hypothesis correct. 

Cloudburst had gone to university for a bit, before the war, but it was cut short. He was lucky enough to be selected for a special team of machinery developers, but then, unfortunate to have been placed in a camp that was quickly overpowered by Decepticon forces.

“And I made my escape before my section was done in,” he said. “In the days following, I made my way to…”

As he was talking, Waverider leaned over to Landmine. 

“Phoenix,” he whispered behind a servo.  

Immediately, he caught on, smirking. 

“Flier?” 

He watched with some satisfaction through his peripheral as Waverider nodded. 

“Well, I guess it isn’t that exciting, but…that’s about it from me!” Cloudburst finished with a huff and another smile. “So what about you?” 

Landmine felt put on the spot for a moment, then he shrugged. 

“It’s not much compared to your novel of a tale,” he remarked. The others gave a chuckle. He looked to Metalhawk. 

“But first…any chance we have drinks aboard?”

…

Landmine was incredibly amused to discover the lack of tolerance to high-grade his commander had. 

Of course, he’d never been drinking with a commander before, but he’d expected himself to get drunk first. 

Or…am I drunk, too? 

Truth be told, he was feeling a bit sleepy…and warm. 

Music played faintly from a speaker near the ceiling. Some song from a couple centuries back, the tune registering itself in subconscious memory. He knew the tune, but didn’t know the song. 

As it was, with many things. 

Yawning, Landmine tilted his helm, which was resting in the palm of his hand, and looked to his holopad. It was laid at the edge of the table, screen open with a striking, blue light.  

The sudden blue glow against the dim, pinkish lighting of the room hurt his optics a bit, so he looked away again. 

 Drunk or sober, I think I’m gonna fall over. 

 “Commander?” He gently poked the yellow mech. Metalhawk had his head down at the flat, white tabletop. 

Landmine guessed he was asleep. He took another sip of his drink, then put it down, giggling. 

Perhaps this’ll rouse him…

 “Hawk! Report status, soldier!” He deepened his voice to resemble the barking of a drill sergeant, tapping the yellow-plated mech as he spoke. 

Metalhawk gave a short jolt. 

“Whaz’t?” He slurred, raising his helm sharply, looking around a bit. He seemed to realize Landmine was talking to him and turned his gaze to him, squinting. 

“Hawk, I was wondering–”

“Comman’er here,” he murmured suddenly, yet still quietly, cutting Landmine off. He gave what looked like the very definition of an ‘improper salute’ as he spoke. 

“Yes, soldier?” He deepened his voice again, smirking. Hawk seemed partially unaware it was Landmine speaking to him, as if he was only half-awake.

“I report…I’m reporting for…my absence reports…I’ll go to class t’morrow, sir!!” 

Oh jeez. He’s so out of it– 

Landmine tightened his jaw, trying not to burst into laughter.

He promptly failed after a couple seconds more, but Metalhawk didn’t seem to really notice. And of course, this just made it funnier.

He watched as Metalhawk shook his head, looking rather drowsily at the empty cup sitting in front of him, then back at Landmine. Was he aware enough to want another drink? 

Perhaps he’d suddenly have some of that energy from a couple hours ago if he had that other drink.

The image of his Commander stumbling around and laughing in a mildly uncharacteristic manner returned to his thoughts. Landmine waited in anticipation as Hawk continued to stare at the cup. 

But then, he gave a long exhale and put his head back down, mumbling something else. 

 Landmine concluded with a small chuckle to himself that, Hawk was probably down for the night–for good this time. 

 “We come bearing–”

“Shush! He’ll know we’re here!!”

“He already does, you nut–” 

 He looked to the door as made a hissing noise and opened to reveal Cloudburst and Waverider, having a mild argument. 

 “Oh, you’re back,” He said, raising his glass with a small grin. Waverider set the crate down. “I definitely didn’t hear you coming down the hall.” 

He watched Waverider snap around and issue a light whack to Cloudburst. It was likely in place of a triumphant ‘I told you so.’  

This time, Landmine didn’t let himself laugh out loud. He did allow a quiet chuckle. 

Cloudburst walked over and grabbed a bottle, popping it open and taking a drink.

“You and the boss’re still around, I see!” 

Landmine nodded, moving to take another sip, but he found his cup empty. 

“I’d stay, but I’m so drunk right now, I can’t stand up straight,” he said, taking another swig. Landmine nodded again, reaching over and sliding a bottle of his own out of its slot. 

“Oh you’re drunk,” Waverider agreed shoving him playfully. 

And so are you, Landmine thought. So am I, probably. 

Pouring the bottle’s contents into his cup, he found his gaze fixating on the liquid as it sparkled mid-air. He liked the small sound it made as it refilled the cup. 

He did not wish to heed how many drinks he’d already had, or was giving himself. 

 “Well then, begone with you,” Waverider said. With a smirk, he suddenly reached over and swiped the open bottle from Cloudburst and took a sip. The mech didn’t seem to mind, just watching him with an amused grin.

“See you, Phoenix,” Landmine said, taking his eyes off his glass for a moment. He set his now-half-empty bottle next to Metalhawk’s sleeping figure. 

That was definitely too many drinks, considering the size of his cup.

  “I’ll be here for a while, I think.”

 Cloudburst nodded acknowledgement and made what Landmine classified as: an improper salute: exhibit B. 

“Then–until the morning shines!” He said, almost a little too loudly. “Cloudburst, signing off my duty–I mean–for my duty! I will bring you–”

“Shut up, you lugnut!” Waverider shoved him out of the room, laughing so hard he lost his footing a bit. The two toppled over, landing outside of the room. 

Landmine just watched, sipping at his cup. The door hissed shut on the sight of the two drunken mechs trying to unentangle themselves and stand up again, amidst their giddy, tipsy laughter. 

“Until the morning shines,” he echoed to himself absentmindedly, shifting his cup from side to side. 

The bubbly feeling he’d been harboring the whole evening was, inevitably and suddenly, starting to fade.

There was something starting to well up inside. Something another couple glasses wouldn’t fix, even though he had as much left in the bottle he’d just taken. 

Something rather cold and dark. 

To think I was among the dying in some forsaken frontlines camp. Now, here I am, drunk, with drunken fools. Look at me, one of them. 

He wasn’t feeling so warm anymore. 

Excitement awaits, or is it crueler death? 

Another sip, and he felt a twinge of unease. Or was it nausea? His fuel tanks remained in slight discomfort, but not enough that he’d be inclined to obey its silent will. 

So, he tilted his helm upwards to finish off the glass. Now he was ready to go.

Landmine rose unsteadily, swaying a bit, gripped the tableside. He felt his fuel tanks lurch with the movement, and took a second to breathe slowly.

He glanced at Hawk, still sleeping in his spot. He wondered when Waverider had planned to come back in, looking to the door. But everything had gone quiet. 

Probably went back to his quarters with Phoenix. 

Ah, well. It was about time he stopped drinking for the night, anyway. With a huff, he hauled himself upright and started towards the door. 

Don’t know where mine is…

He figured he’d just go back to the command center. Perhaps no one would mind if he passed out there. 

…

Three weeks later, the team was almost through with their pre-mission training requirements, with only days to go before they were certified to move out. 

It hadn’t been easy, but Landmine found himself feeling more confident in the mission to come, and in his Pretender abilities, which had until this point, meant next to nothing to him. 

 It was funny to think how the higher-ups had tried to convince every bot that their only purpose was a soldier, who should hold their gun and shoot–the only exception being if they were elite by caste or class, or simply higher-ranked. 

Day after day of military academy–especially after the war really got started–Landmine knew he was no elite. He was trained in how to use his gun, how to survive without proper resources for periods of time, to be a strategist–with the all the smarts a bot might need but would forget when a blade shoved itself against their throat. 

Yet still, only twice had he ever been spoken to about being a Pretender. About fighting as a Pretender and not as simply another Autobot soldier.

Perhaps it was trivial in the bigger picture–after all, dead is dead. 

 4-edge, 3-edge, length sticks, no not those…

Landmine’s optics flicked to the different boxes lined up in the shelf. Some of them had labels, some of those labels had faded to white. 

He’d gone to fetch some repair supplies for Cloudburst. And as usual, the silence invited the chatter of his own thoughts. 

How many were there like himself, with unacknowledged potential–who would likely die in battle, the intricate stories of their lives forced shut in an anticlimactic conclusion. No adventure, no life lived before their time? 

And how odd, he remarked internally, to still have the fortunate and the unfortunate, in the midst of a war–one being fought namely for the end of the class divide in Cybertronian society. 

Will we accomplish anything when we end this, other than the destruction of cities and lives? Be it violent tyranny and oppression, or the will of corrupt and almighty governmental bodies–who below them would come away with anything other than what has always been? 

Head down, staring at the contents of the open box, Landmine felt a familiar ache, a sinking feeling of dread and despair. 

Our lives lie in the hands of others. If we like it or not, if we wage a war for it or not. How fair is that? 

“Lander! Where are you, buddy? We’re doing another simulation soon, but Hawk wants us in the main hall first!” 

Waverider. 

He looked up, staring at the wall outside the open door. He felt guilty as silence followed, likely for his own lack of response. But he couldn’t say anything back right now. He gripped the box more tightly and started down the hall. 

Memories began to awaken. Things he wanted to remember that made his chest hurt, reminding him why he also…didn’t want to remember. 

I'm just as bad a spark, aren't I?

He wondered…how fair it was to break someone’s heart, and then, act like nothing had happened at all. 

…

On the day for liftoff–when training was complete and all certifications to move out had been met–Landmine found himself exiting powerdown before daylight had emerged in the sky. He was not a late-riser by any means, but not usually quite so early either. 

He stared at the faint rays of daylight, reaching through his window and lighting the edge of his room walls.

He thought about the vacuum of space ahead. Something like a smile played at the corners of his mouth. 

I’ll remember this for a while, won’t I? 

The mech paced his room a couple times, rolling his shoulder joints and stretching a little. He'd found many benefits to morning exercises.

Optics ticking to an empty glass bottle lying near the window, his mind drifted back to the evening before. 

To the impromptu speech Metalhawk had made last night over some drinks in the bar room. 

The dimly-lit room carried a quiet murmuring, a laugh here and there. Landmine had come a bit late, taking his seat while Waverider waved a hello and handed him a glass. Cloudburst was, of course, talking. 

After a little while, Landmine glanced over the table and saw that Metalhawk had a distant sort of smile on his faceplate. 

He ran a finger against his rounded glass, gently. Then, as if deciding something, he flicked the edge softly. 

The soft cling caught the attention of their group, quieting them. And, without moving his optics from the sight of the rippling liquid in his cup, he’d begun to speak. 

“As we prepare to liftoff tomorrow, I wanted to…say a few things.” 

He looked now, to each one of them. 

“I…cannot guarantee we will make it back to Cybertron, that we will always have what we need, or that we will…survive this. I don’t know if we’ll succeed or fail in our mission, end up as prisoners of war on some Decepticon ship or not, or die as just a handful more nameless, faceless faction of the Autobot army. But, there is one thing of which, I do ask you to be certain.” 

He smiled a smile that no longer seemed distant, but very much real. Present. 

A look shimmered in his optics that Landmine knew well, yet not of his own experience. 

It was a look that belonged only to those who had somehow, not been tainted at their very core–who had somehow learned to love all things as they were, and to always love. 

Someone, he mused the thought, who had perhaps, not yet learned to hate from the pits of his being. Or maybe…

Made a choice, he'd thought.

“I am your commander in name only. More importantly, however, know I am your teammate, and I will not abandon you at any cost. Our destinies are uncertain–I only hope for many good centuries together. Not as mere soldiers of the Autobot faction, but instead as warriors of Cybertron, and of justice. Though imperfect as all beings are, we have, and always will have, a duty to protect life, and to strive to do good. And that mission, above all others, I do believe we can accomplish.”

Landmine gave a shout of approval and raised his glass high in the air. Nodding, the others raised theirs. They gazed back at Metalhawk, who gave a small chuckle, then raised his own glass. 

“For peace!” He offered the toast. Clinking of glass and overlapping shouts followed.

“For Cybertron!!”

“Let’s get ‘em!!”

“YEAA!!!”

Landmine blinked again, realizing he’d begun to stare at that bottle a little too long. 

The memory left him in the silence of his room in the early hours of day. 

Today’s the day. 

He slipped his new blaster to its holster and cast one more look at his room, then headed down to the main room to start course-planning, as a favor for the others on the ship, of course. 

…

Many years had passed since the Pretenders’ liftoff. Missions had been carried out, ships tracked and ambushed, prisoners transported to warships that arrived quickly after battles. The three weeks of training hadn’t done much to show them what they’d learn firsthand on every mission. 

Many hours were spent behind piles of mission reports and other writeups for record-keeping. No one had been seriously wounded up till this point, just some scratches here and there. 

When it was time to close in on their target, there’d be tense silence in the command room, darkened save for the computer display of what lay outside their ship’s windows. It was the unspoken group decision that pursuing targets would mean windows were closed, for maximum stealth effect in addition to the cloaking technology their ship possessed.

The panel walls were littered with an array of maps and charts (digital or tacked on rather hastily) that either had to do with their ship or the one the team was chasing. All optics and servos were locked to their task, relaying commands and requests between stations, ready for almost anything. 

 And at present, that was kind of the team’s situation…with one slight change. 

 “Phoenix, give me the numbers on our bottom left central thruster. Will it hold?”

 Having tracked their target to a very distant quadrant, the computer didn’t have much information about the area or its conditions. 

 “Ah…we’re at 42% power and dropping. The damage report indicates the shielding was torn off and it’s leaking fuel. The secondary power source cables are damaged as well, so once all the power’s gone, that’s it.” 

“Are the damage control systems online?”

“Negative. We have to go manual,” He pulled up the video feed of their rear camera to show the damage. “We are traveling at full speed in space, so manual repairs are not doable–”

“–without the cost of a life, alright. And if we continue pursuit as we are?” 

“Without repair? The…system says about 20 minutes until it starts sucking power from the other ones, and then we’ll enter float stage, pre-free-fall.”

 So…they were trapped. 

Landmine watched as he ducked his head, dealing a restrained punch to the wall next to him before returning to his command station and furiously typing away at the controls. He cast his eyes back to his own task, repeating to himself that he must stay focused.

“I’m going to try to reroute the power from the damaged thruster to the functional ones and shut off its power. We need to land now, or we’ll be forced to land,” he said quickly, not looking up. 

The tremor in his voice was audible, ambiguously a tone of either urgency or fear. 

 Landmine looked up from his station, where he had been managing their travel course since no one was piloting manually. 

 “Should I analyze the properties of our current sector and any stable landforms?” He offered, already pulling up another screen. 

“Yes, make sure–”

 Suddenly, the vessel jolted downwards and shook with such force that everyone was knocked to their feet. A blaring alarm sounded as the ship shook again, an automated voice announcing in smooth Cybertronian that their back two thrusters were out of power. 

The lights shut off for a second, while the ship swayed unevenly before a loud whirring started up and it moved back up again. 

When it returned to a somewhat stable position, the lights remained flickering, and everyone remained gripping their stations tightly so as to not fall over. 

 Metalhawk straightened and immediately dashed to the front of the ship, smacking a panel on the front computer and grabbing the steering wheel. As he twisted it, he turned back around for a moment. 

 “Lander–something within the current firing range of this ship–we need a landing place now!!”

“We’re abandoning target pursuit?” 

 He felt a small spark of hope as Metalhawk, gave a silent nod in response. He had the feeling most other commanders would have sacrificed themselves and their ship, preaching the nobility of dying for this cause without abandoning the mission.

 “With any luck, one of our last stray shots hit their ship too–which was already on its last leg from the looks of it,” Waverider piped up. “So they won’t be too far ahead, I’ll bet.” 

 “Okay, then,” Landmine switched off his station’s input to the course control and focused his efforts on scanning the nearby planets. “I’ll get something.” 

The ship was vibrating now, but not with its usual even-toned hum. 

It was the kind of uneven vibrating a machine made before it finally gave out and powered down for good.

Meanwhile, all the planets in their current sector weren’t looking too appealing. 

Not many with life or long-term livable conditions…Hm…

“Balance function is starting to–”

As if on cue, the ship began to tilt downwards again, the metallic whirring noise growing louder and louder. A small explosion could be heard before the lights shut off for good and the alarm system abruptly stopped. Everyone was tossed violently to the ground. 

The automated voice struggled to tell the room–

“We lost the third one!!” Cloudburst called over the halting monotone speech from the ship’s speakers. He shook his head picked himself off the ground, then rushed for the door. 

“I’ll shut off the power transfer so it doesn’t fry the rest of the ship and us in it!” The door hissed open and he disappeared down the hall. 

 Then, the sound of…something blowing out, sounded in the room. 

“Oh, sweet fraggin–” Waverider muttered the beginnings of a swear before whipping his gaze to the side to watch as the left half of the ship went completely dark, the computer panels clearly destroyed past functioning point. 

He slammed his station with a balled first. 

“We’re blind on the left side!”

Metalhawk made a noise of frustration and worry, just barely audible above the roaring engine as it struggled to stay active. He was grappling with the somewhat functional manual steering system, trying to keep the ship at a steady angle. 

 “Can we open the–ngh!!” 

He was cut off as the ship as the ship lost control again, throwing him off the wheel and slamming him against the wall and then the floor. As he stumbled to his feet and back to the steering wheel, he gasped as he saw the other side of the ship’s display panels begin to flicker ominously. 

Landmine swallowed, doing his best to quickly surf through all the information presented. 

“We’re almost out of power–we can’t deactivate the panels!”

It was now or never, they needed a place to–

'Sol System Entry 7625 - Life: detected.’ 

Landmine blinked twice at the screen in front of him. He scrolled back to the planet that had read the one positive result among the sea of negative ones. 

It that…?

With a quick tap, the image of a blue orb with wispy, white clouds tracing its edge, floating gently in its place, appeared on his display screen. His optics flicked to the planetary report, intrigued to find that this place had even been previously logged into Autobot travel records. 

‘Atmospheric makeup: Non-toxic. Resource profile: Varied, Non-toxic. Cycle End Date: Undetected. Motion Cycle: Rotation.’ 

He checking one last thing, anticipation building–

Landing conditions: Optimal; follow procedure 41F-52.’

That was it.

“We need to prepare the ship to enter foreign atmosphere!!”

Waverider and Metalhawk snapped their gazes in his direction.

“Yes, I found us a landing spot, you can thank me later. The profiles of the surrounding planets are virtually uninhabitable–this is our only option right now!” 

Waverider exchanged looks with their commander, who gave him a sharp nod. Then, he ran over to Landmine’s screen. After a moment, he chuckled a little. 

When he turned to look at Landmine, a smile had cracked onto his face through the solemn, controlled panic that had been previously. The soft, turquoise light from the only control panels still working in the room bounced off the curves of his face, shimmering off his blue visor. 

 And even though there was such a high chance they’d die in the next few minutes, Landmine found himself frozen, simply staring back.

 No. We can’t die today. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. 

“Hey! Um, a little help here–did we find something?!”

Landmine let out a little laugh and slid back into his seat as Waverider seemed to snap back to seriousness and leaned over to speak for him.

“Hawk, it also checks out as habitable to carbon-based life forms!” He called, gripping the his station as the ship jerked to the side again. “We’ll be fine as long as we land safely!” 

Just then, Cloudburst came rushing into the room. 

“The core engine isn’t looking good, guys! We need to get the ship out of full thrust mode or we’ll overheat, and our power sources will mix and explode!!” 

Oh. Wonderful. 

So, the options had been expanded beyond: 1.) drifting aimlessly, trapped inside a non-functioning ship until energon-depletion or some other cause killed them, or 2.) losing power completely and burning up upon entry to the nearest atmosphere.

Now, they had a third option: sitting and waiting for their ship to simply overheat and explode. 

The reddish mech ran up next to Metalhawk and started pushing buttons on the control panel. 

“Someone needs to prepare the stasis pods and program them to ejection mode, I’ll set an altitude point!” 

“Got it!” Waverider called, jumping up and sprinting out of the room. Landmine started inputting the coordinates of destination to the navigation system–one of the only undamaged things thus far–and deprogramming the space travel controls. 

A couple minutes of silence passed before he flashed a thumb-up in the air.

“We’re ready for atmospheric entry in approximately 40 seconds and counting!” 

“Brace for a drop, everyone!” Metalhawk shouted, planting his feet and gripping the wheel with all the force he could give. 

“Stasis pods are ready to go!” Waverider reentered the room, sliding back into his station.

“Engines to 15%!”

“Roger!”

“Everyone get down!!”

There was a loud noise from the engine, then an abrupt silence as it cut down to about 15% power, and then the ship dipped so far downwards that Landmine felt himself grimace. 

Part of him even wondered if this was really procedure, and that they weren’t all about to die now. 

As if we weren’t before, he scoffed at himself. 

He dug his digits into the side of his seat and shut his optics as the ship began to pick up speed. 

The eerie silence endured for what felt like an eternity before the ship moved again, this time to right itself and return to a normal angle. At least, normal enough that Landmine opened his eyes to look around and see that the others were slowly standing up. 

 Metalhawk let out a shuddering breath and pressed a couple buttons with shaking digits before stepping back and regarding his crew. He’d probably switched the ship back to autopilot, so that they could all–

“Everyone to the stasis pods,” he ordered solemnly, quietly. 

No one else spoke a word, ducking their helms and filing out of the room and into the hall. 

Landmine walked out last. 

He cast one last look at the nearly pitch-black command room, catching sight of the last couple working display panels struggling to function before the door hissed shut behind him. 

He felt a twinge of sadness at the idea that they were saying goodbye to this ship so soon. Admittedly, it had been one nice vessel, with a gorgeous design and plenty of capabilities.

Then, there was the stark realization that once they entered stasis, they might not make it back out alive. 

We can’t die today. We won’t.

Since the ship was barely working, the lighting in the halls was…nonexistent. However, they knew exactly where they were going, and walked quietly in the darkness until they reached their destination. 

With a quiet whirring noise, the door slid open. The darkness was abruptly luminated with a soft, greenish glow, emanating from the center of each stasis pod lying in its place. 

There were six of them, more than enough for every member on this team. 

Landmine had been there to help Cloudburst put in the other three.

He walked in and watched as Metalhawk entered his verification to the panel on the wall, deactivating the locks on each one so they hissed and snapped open simultaneously. The greenish glow faded to a blue, as if softening, to invite them in. 

“Whatever the outcome, remember what I said to you all on our liftoff day,” Metalhawk said as evenly as he could, turning and regarding each mech slowly, kindly. He had that smile on his face again, which seemed to ease the tension in the room. 

“If we make it out alive or if this is the day on which Primus welcomes us home, I am honored to have had such a good team of friends. I am honored to die, not for this cause, but surrounded by you.”

"And we're honored to remain with you in this moment, sir."

"It was an honor indeed."

"Frag yeah."

Their commander nodded, then swiveled to gaze down at the stasis pods.

“Then…until we meet again,” he said, soft enough that he almost wasn't audible.

He then walked to the back of the room and took a step into the pod. Cloudburst followed, taking the one next to him.

Landmine stepped towards his pod, then stopped, frozen in place again. 

It wasn’t quite hesitation or fear, but something was stopping him from going forward. He could feel the quaking beneath him, as the ship was no doubt somewhat falling apart, reaching closer and closer to the ground. 

He heard the doors to the other pods seal themselves shut, administering the stasis lock. 

But something was…

“Hey.” 

He looked to his side and found himself millimeters away from Waverider. His spark skipped a beat. But, he wasn’t afraid. 

He found himself reaching out and gripping Waverider’s servos, firmly, yet gently. He traced his thumb along the palm of his hand, smiling with a deep emotion he couldn’t quite place. 

Waverider’s visor glittered, a smile twisting the corners of his mouth upwards. He let his helm fall against Landmine’s.

He spoke so softly, so gently, in his easy-going way that almost made it seem like he didn't even fear death itself. 

“I want to see you again.”

“Me too.”

“Then see me again!” 

“Alright, I will,” Landmine chuckled, letting go of one hand and bringing it up to caress Waverider’s face for a moment. “I won’t leave you again.” 

“Oh, Lander…”

“I’m sorry for everything, I’m sorry for the things I said back in Academy, I'm sorry for never contacting you, I’m sorry for–”

“Shh…” 

 The black-plated mech drew away, his hand sliding slowly out of Landmine’s grip. He gave a soft smile and climbed into his pod, still watching him.

Landmine found himself to be shaking, unable to speak as he watched Waverider lean back and close his optics. He didn’t know how to describe this feeling, that seemed to break his facade, to suddenly force him to realize of the gravity of everything happening in this moment. 

The possibility of the unwanted outcome, which no one would mourn, and no one would remember, until long after the war was over. Or perhaps, not even then.  

He watched, motionless, as the glass panel slid over his body, the blue shining off it in wavy lines.

He mouthed something just before the glass fogged over and he could no longer be seen. 

Until we meet again. 

He could still felt the touch on his hand, the weight against his forehead, heard the softly-whispered utterances ringing in the recesses of his mind as he finally forced himself to move. 

Stepping into his own pod, he felt a strange relief wash over him. Perhaps it was closer to sudden resignation, but he wanted to believe it was relief.

A sheet of clear glass moved over his body, another, thicker one sliding over from the side.

It was a very small space, this container. 

He found himself smiling.

Maybe now he could finally say he’d been a good Autobot. 

Had the past been fixed? Had he done anything right or...just? Had he truly strove for the protection of all life, as Hawk had put it? 

Perhaps. Or not. But maybe I did my best. And maybe…that’s good enough. 

And then, the nothingness of stasis wrapped its grip around him, and everything went dark. 

…

“No, you need a new tie–where’s your sense of style?!” Landmine took a long drink from his glass before shaking his head. “Oh, wait I forgot–you don’t have one.”

“Says the guy in the ugliest jacket I have ever laid eyes on–”

“That's my favorite one, shut up!” 

“You!!”

“You!!!”

But the both of them were laughing.

Though tipsy, they hadn’t thought to call it a night yet, especially not on their drinks. So they remained, sitting near the window of a high-rise, fancy restaurant in the middle Manhattan.

It had so happened, Waverider was in the city for a bit, so Landmine decided to take him to one of his favorite restaurants.

It was times like this he was happy to be not just a human, but one with a very decent salary.

The lights of the city twinkled like a sea of stars tied to the ground, canceling out the vast number of stars that both of them knew hung high in the sky…out in space…

“It’s been too long for you, hasn’t it?” 

 Landmine jolted a bit a he heard Waverider’s voice, gaze snapping back to him and away from the city below. He watched him reach out and pick up his glass, tracing the edge of it with a finger. 

“Me too, Lander,” Waverider said, so quietly it could have been to himself, “Me too.” 

Yes, he agreed, internally, looking back out the window.  

It’d been quite literally ages since they’d been able to resume their missions, flying around the galaxy…they’d been in human bodies for so many years, it almost felt like a distant memory–the war, or that they belonged to a whole other world. 

Considering how long they'd been forced to remain on earth so far–as their superiors felt it best to just station the team on earth rather than provide or allow them a means to come back to Cybertron–he was fairly open to that notion. Perhaps it was better it all remained a vague memory, put behind him for good.

Life on earth wasn't perfect, but it had a lot of its own good moments. In some ways, it was better than Cybertron, he'd concluded.

And despite what he knew many of his kind would think, he didn't feel guilty at all for feeling that way.

He remembered the day their stasis pods reactivated, opening his optics to a bright light floating in a crystal blue sky, and realizing he was unharmed, and still alive. 

The flood of hope like no other, that had caused him to remain motionless for quite a while before he finally left his pod. 

But what had felt like such a distant memory wasn’t just the war itself. 

 “Hey,” he said taking another sip of the sparkling white liquid in his glass. “I’ve missed talking to you like this. Just sitting together...”

He watched Waverider lean back to down the rest of his glass before responding. 

“You said it.”

“We should…get together more often,” he found himself saying. The music playing faintly on the speakers stopped for a moment as he spoke. 

He watched Waverider smile, but felt his heart tighten as it registered what kind of smile it was. This was familiar. Quite familiar. 

Another song started to play overhead. Something about romance. 

“I’d…be open to that,” he said at last, looking out the window. Even amidst the medium-level noise of the restaurant, his sudden silence seemed to shout at Landmine. 

Should I not have...?

Landmine sighed and reached out a hand, letting his fingers rest on his friend’s. 

The warm, semi-dim lighting of the restaurant painted the strangers at the tables behind them in orange shadows. The yellow of the overhead lighting shimmered faintly in the depths of Waverider's soft blue eyes. 

He looked out the window again, too, eyes caught by the sight of a skyscraper flashing a bright yellow light in some practiced sequence. 

He found it wonderful and intriguing that even after all these years watching civilization build itself into the modern day, there were still some things he’d never know about daily life. 

Or it might be a broken light. 

Another memory suddenly greeted him. 

The one where he went to check Waverider’s pod first, instinctively, and moment he realized how afraid he’d been when Waverider finally opened his eyes, the glass sliding away immediately, letting him sit up.

 “We’re up first! How wild is that?” He’d said, dropping down to a kneeling position to be eye-level with him. Waverider blinked once, twice, then chuckled. 

“Pretty wild.” He leaned forward and touched foreheads with Landmine. “So, hey.”

“Hey.”

“I’m seeing you again. I told you we’d see each other soon…”

“I know…”

Suddenly, the hand beneath his shifted to grip back, pulling him from his memory and into the present again. The smile that he saw across the table was different again, looking happier than before. 

I just don’t know how to tell you...

 “Can I come to your office tomorrow, then?” 

 Landmine smirked, feeling his own playful nature return in full. 

 “Only if you let me pick out your outfit–and you throw out that awful tie!” 

“By the Primes, Lander–”

“No, I'll even buy the stuff for you. It’ll be my treat,” He insisted, starting to laugh. “The people at my office will kick you out if you walk in with that uncoordinated kind of style!” 

“Oh, then you must have experience in that field,” Waverider joked back, motioning at Landmine’s signature burgundy jacket. 

He had the most smug grin on his face.

“My good sir, I’ll have you know that–” 

But he didn’t finish his sentence.

He’d broken off abruptly, just staring at Waverider for a moment. The clamor of people around them seemed to fade out.

Unsure as to whether it was the wine he'd been drinking or something else entirely, he felt like something was...pulling at him, and he found himself leaning closer and closer until…

Another memory flashed through his mind’s eye. It was of his first experience with a kiss. 

Landmine was sitting in his office, typing away at his laptop. He'd been working at a paper company while he looked for a better job, having set his sights on moving to New York.

He was filling out his application for a position as head of sales at an automotive dealer when he felt a tap on the shoulder.

In the reflection of his computer screen, he could see Waverider's figure before he felt him lean over and rest his head on his shoulder.

"Hey," he murmured, grinning. "Shouldn't you be in a meeting?"

His partner didn't respond, instead leaning over and pressing his lips gently against Landmine's cheek. The blonde froze, obviously startled by the gesture.

Then at last, he cleared his throat, looking up at Waverider, who still had a large smile on his face. He was sure he was flushed, but tried to play it cool.

"And you did that…why?”

“It’s a human custom,” Waverider explained, laughing. “Its called kissing. Saw someone in my office do it with their partner, and I've seen it hundreds of times before that, but didn't know what it was."

"And that is?" He watched Waverider draw back a bit, tapping his chin in thought.

"How do I say...well, it's like...it means affection, or that you care for someone.”

"Alright..." Landmine was still confused, however. “But, I mean...is it platonic or romantic?”

Waverider shrugged. Then, leaned over to kiss Landmine's cheek again.

"That's...up to us, I guess..."

Whatever you wanted it to be, a kiss was. 

Well, he didn't know what this kiss was, but...he knew it felt right. It was better than any word he could speak, or gesture he could make.

And after a moment, he and Waverider leaned back, sat back down, quiet again. But, not an uncomfortable silence. 

He watched his companion smile, start to blush. The dimples in his face showed themselves as he smiled back at him. He ruffled his brownish-blonde hair with one hand, starting to giggle a little. 

Landmine knew it wasn’t going to be long before Waverider would have to return to his job, leaving New York again. They’d be lonely again, even if they called and messaged…

But maybe what they had...didn't need some kind of label, or name. A commitment or a friendship or...something deeper than that...whatever this was.

This still felt alright. As it always had. Something told him Waverider felt that, too. 

He and Waverider had since had many long talks about their academy days. Everything had been laid out, brought up, acknowledged and forgiven.

They had come to understand one another so deeply in all their years since coming to Earth, but especially now, as humans in this current time of peace. 

“No matter what you do, or who you’re with," Waverider murmured, beaming, "I’ll always be here for you. I know I've said that before, but...eh, it's worth saying again.” 

"I know."

"I'm glad!" He laughed again.

He was certainly a little drunk, sure but, he was always like this, Landmine thought.

Waverider had always been a relaxed and fun-loving soul.

“Connected sparks...always find their way back together no matter what, don’t they?” Landmine remarked, flicking a fingertip against his plate.

He felt warm, all the way inside himself, not from the meal or the heater, but...from something else.

Waverider blinked in some surprise for a moment, seeming to take in the words, processing them, before the smile returned to his features.

“Yeah...they really do.”

And, suddenly Landmine took notice of the speaker overhead, as it had started playing something else while they spoke. 

It was a song about humanity–something he and the other Pretenders had learned slowly but surely, was quite relative to what they’d known all their lives.

The truth of existence, which Landmine had found and continued to find with every passing day. 

That it's alright, to be as one is–imperfect, yet persevering.

Bringing what one can to the table of life, giving, speaking, loving and experiencing it all. 

That in that imperfection, life itself was good–contrary of course, to what he’d learned in the Cybertronian Military Academy, which had been wrong about many other things as well. 

Life in many forms, which seeks friendships and connections between others, in its funny, social nature.

Nothing quite in idealistic purity, and often happy in that manner of existing.

That, which altogether, made it truly beautiful to be alive, especially on this Earth.

///

#transformers #transformers super god masterforce #super god Masterforce #super god masterforce fanfiction #Masterforce #masterforce moment òwó 🥺💖✨ #tf #transformers stuff #maccadam #kuniwrites #<3 #fanfiction #writing #landmine #lander #waverider #diver #cloudburst #Phoenix #Metalhawk #hawk #Pretenders #transformers fanfiction #for fun #anime #transformers anime #edit: ive finally come up with a shipname for these two #landiver #vine boom sound effect #yea

[abominableastronaut]

☕ transhumanism?

Hmmm, complicated I guess? I like that we can use technology to help us improve our quality of life, but it does come with its caveats and flaws. It's also something I didn't really consider on more than a casual level until recent years.

This is difficult to phrase in an ask answer bc I like to ramble but I tried to keep it consise! These are a few topics I've seen come up in discussions that I have thoughts about.

On the assistive tech side, I'm pretty sceptical of any improvement that has not taken into account the opinions and desires of its intended users, and I think that the intended audience of any improvements should be heavily involved in development. Also, who can afford this? Who can use it? How practical is it? What are the costs, as well as the benefits? Anything we make is going to be imperfect, so what flaws do we consider acceptable? What does ethical testing look like?

On the pursuit of immortality/extension of life, hell yeah in theory but in practice can we support an ageing population? Are other technologies able to help people have fulfilling later lives? Some people at 80-90 are active and comfortable, and some are in pain. What does combatting ageing look like and do we expect people to work 9-5 (or more) to afford to live, forever? I'll stop here bc I could ramble on about stuff only vaguely related to the topic for a while. :)

There's also stuff with genetic enhancement and focus on human biology where the eugenecists like to creep in and I'm beating them back with a stick. Reproductive technology is a wild field.

#transdankovsky #sometime i make text posts #thank you!! #I hope this isn't too rambly it turns out I have more thoughts on this than I assumed I did #though I am nowhere near an expert on the topic

[dipperdesperado]

Writing Story Collection Chapter 4 - Brutalism

Another Day, another chapter! Hope you've been enjoying the story collection project. Also, some of the second to last scene deleted, but I'm tired so imma just leave it LMAO.

The droning pitter-patter of tires rolling across dirt. The slight creaking of a vehicle chassis as bumps are hit in the road. The scratchy feeling of wool snagging on dry skin. W-where am I? Sandra tries to open her eyes, but everything is…hazy. It doesn’t help that the wooly thing is covering her head. She slowly sits up and feels cool metal on the base of her spine. Did my clothes get ripped? She tries to move her hands and realizes that they’re bound. What the fuck?

“Hey! One of them’s awake!” someone a few feet away from her says. A few stomps later they’re right in front of her. “Time to go back to sleep.” They lift off the thing obscuring Sandra’s view, and blows a powder in her face.

“Wuhhh… the fu-” Sandra says, fading back into unconsciousness.

* * *

Sandra comes to, shocked awake by ice-cold water, dripping from piping above onto her face. She’s tied to the wall, dungeon style. To her left, she sees Zoe, and to her right, she sees Grohl and Riley. All unconscious.Holy shit.

She starts thrashing, trying to escape. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.She looks around again, and it sets in. The minimal visibility granted from god rays through small, barred windows. The muggy heat of the damp room. The cool concrete floors that are covered in a layer of what one can only hope is dirt.An initially calming smell of earth that quickly becomes disparaging once it sets in that an abundance of nature means a lack of humanity. No one’s coming to save them. I can’t. She can feel her heartbeat in her ears. Her stomach. Even her toes. She can feel the hairs on her neck, legs, and arms stand up as the adrenaline starts ramping up in her body. The panic. The fear. The anxiety. The despair.

Right before the bile burns her throat to the point of vomiting, a light in the adjacent room dances on. A couple of seconds later, a figure appears. “Oh look, she’s awake.” He walks into the room, and looks at the team, then back at Sandra. “You up for a little chat?”

“W-where are we? Why are we here? What happened to due process?”

The man walks over and bends down to be at eye level with Sandra. “You tell me! SLASH doesn’t care about due process, do they? All they care about is chaos and disorder.”

“Sorry, SLASH?”

“Wow. Don’t play dumb, now. Isn’t that who you were meeting?”

Shit. Was that SLASH? How would they know about all that stuff in the government?

“I…I don’t know.”

A fire is lit in the man’s eyes. “Wrong. Answer.” He walks over to the windows, each step sending ripples of noise through the room. “I need you to tell the truth. How did you get in contact with SLASH?”

“I don’t know if it was SLASH! I have no idea who it was.”

The man looks out of the window for a few seconds that last a lifetime, then turns around. “So. You went out to the sticks, in an area known to have heavy terrorist activity, to meet a mystery person so mysterious that you didn’t even know what you were looking for?”

“There’s no way I-we could have known any of that. We’re just reporters.”

“Oh, I know about your day job, Sandra Nantucket. But I don’t understand this. Why is a weathergirl getting involved with terrorists? Is telling us how hot it’s gonna be just a front?”

Sandra starts to tear up, her eyes burning from dryness and pain. “I’m telling you, I have no idea who you’re talking about! Not a clue!”

“Fine. I hope for your sake, you’re telling the truth. If not, things are going to get a lot less fun for you. And if that isn’t motivation enough, then things will start to suck even more for your pals here. I’m gonna leave, and a new friend is gonna come. I’d recommend being more…forthright with them. Ciao.” The man walks away, each step feeling like thunder.

* * *

A chunk of minutes pass, and the man comes back with a chair, a briefcase and a friend. “I’ll get her down. You can start setting up the machine.” The man walks over. “Like I said before. Make sure you play nice.” He uncuffs her, leading her to the chair.

Should I run? Attack him? She quickly scans the room. No. I can’t leave everyone behind. I also know I can’t take both of these guys on my own.Fuck.

He plops Sandra in the chair, and straps her in. The other man hands him the briefcase, and he opens it, attaches all of the nodes to Sandra, and turns it on.

A polygraph. Could be worse.

“Okay. Go ahead and ask youur questions.”

The other man clears his throat, then stares deeply into Sandra’s eyes. “Are you a member of the extremist group known as Blades?”

Sandra looks at the men, then at her friends. “I’ve never even heard of them before!”

The second man looks at the readings. “She’s telling the truth. Okay. Next question.”

God. Why is this happening to me?

“Were you meeting with an extremist before we picked you up?” the second man says, deadpan.

“I literally have no clue. Y’all interrupted before I could figure out who they were.” They seemed to know a lot, though.

The second man nods at the first. The first man gets irritated and starts to pace. “We’re gonna need to pick this up a bit.”

Sandra opens her left hand, realizing that she’d been clenching it. She looks at her hand and sees indentations from her nails. Calm down. It’s okay. Just stay calm, and you’ll be able to get out of this.

“Okay. Another question. Did you attend any of the protests near or around government buildings that became violent?”

Fuck. Shit. Goddamn!“Y-yes.”

The second man nods. The first man claps, grinning. “Now, we’re getting somewhere! Okay, let’s continue.”

“Next question. At these protests, did you engage with any officers?”

Sandra looks at both of them, and realizes that she’s sweating. It could be the emotional rollercoaster that she’s been on, whatever drugs they used to knock everyone out, but she just feels ragged. I can’t tell them anything more. I have to stall.

“Look. I feel like you all are asking softball questions. You’re trying to find a connection between my team, the rebels, and the protesters, right? Well, you’re going to have to dig deeper, or this is going to take all day.”

The first man’s face lights up with rage. He grabs Sandra’s face, cupping his hand under her chin. “Oh! We’re taking too long, huh?” He let’s go and starts to pace again. “Do you have somewhere else to be?” Sandra looks at him, tearful fury in her eyes. “Look. We caught you up to no good, simple as that. I tried, I really did, to talk to you like a person, and go through these methods, to get the information as nicely as possible. But, it seems like our kindness and hospitality is lost on you. Fine. have it your way, then.” The first man pulls out a pistol. He puts it under her chin. He cocks it. “Is this what you want?” Sandra’s fury turns to fear. She starts crying. “What about this?” He points the gun at Zoe, still sleeping. She watches him turn flick off the safety lock. “I’m going to ask, one more time. Where is the-”

BOOM! A loud explosion rings in the distance.  The second man looks concerned. “Shit, they found us here?”

Gunshots go off like crazy outside. The first man sighs. he grabs Sandra again. “Don’t try anything.” He looks at the second man. “Let’s go.” The second man pulls out his gun, and they go to the doorway. As they get to the door to exit, it explodes in a flash of electricity and smoke.

Sandra turns around, hopping in the chair to make it move, once she hears the explosion. She is met by 3 masked people, fronted by one who’s mask is made out of a razor blades. The other two run to the team to remove their shackles. The razor-mask walks up to Sandra. She recoils, but razor-mask puts their hands up in surrender. Then, they make finger guns, and in a flash of light, the cuffs disappear. The same thing happens with the feet cuffs. Sandra rubs her wrists, and rips the polygraph cords off of her body. What the fuck is going on?Sandra runs to her team. Zoe and Grohl are each being held by the other masked people, and Riley is leaned up against the wall. Shit. Wish they would’ve brought more people.

As if on cue, a couple more masked people come rushing in. They whisper to razor-mask, and then come to grab Riley.

Sandra stumbles over to razor-mask. “Who are you? Why are you helping us?”

“If you’re like any of the other people that were being held on these grounds, then we know it was unjust and without due process. We’re here to do our part to right the system’s wrongs.”

Holy shit. “Wait, are you SLASH?”

“The one and only.”

* * *

The Blades lead the team out in a V formation, spearheaded by SLASH. Sandra, and the Blades carrying her team are inside the V. Maybe that makes this more of an A formation. Sandra hobbles along with the group, as explosions and gunshots are all around them. The team finally starts to wake up, one after another. Grohl, then Zoe, and last but not least, Riley. All of them start panicking in their dazes.

“Hey! Calm down, we’ll be okay. We’re gonna get out of here.”

* * *

Once they are at a safe distance, the Blades and the team debrief. Sandra catches everyone up on everything, and lets the Blades know that they government is really gunning for them.

Sandra looks at her team. “Shit. We should probably lay low for a while.”

SLASH looks back at them. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that too much. The black ops team that took you isn’t privy to sharing information, and this would be way too embarrassing for them to share.”

Grohl rubs his temple. “What?”

“You don’t have anything to worry about. There’s gonna be way too much heat to try and pull another stunt like they just did.” SLASH throws the four some bottled waters. “Good thing we came just in the nick of time. Try to stay out of trouble, at least for a little while.”

Zoe leans closer to Sandra. “Do you know them? Like, personally?”

“No, this is our first time crossing paths, as far as I know,” Sandra replies, in between hearty gulps.

SLASH leans out of a window, and pops her head back into the truck. “All right, this is your stop. We have some more stuff to do, but y’all don’t need to come along for that.”

The truck stops, and the team disembarks. SLASH hops down too, and hands Sandra a folder. “Hopefully, this will help.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll see. Just make sure that you do some dammed good reporting.”

SLASH hops on the back of the truck, and waves as it peels off.

“They’re probably the nicest terrorist I’ve ever met,” Riley says.

Zoe looks at him, eyebrow raised. “How many terrorists do you know?”

#storytelling #writing collection project #writing #creative writing #writers of tumblr #writers #writerscommunity #writers of color #writers and poets #creative #storytellers #naruto #far cry

[kinetic-elaboration]

July 15: Strange Friday

Lots of activity in the library today, which I could have done without. Mostly I stayed back in my department and tried to know as little about it as possible, but some stuff literally was moved into my department (dismantled shelves that are tilted all over the place and make the floor seem unstable; the tops of shelves, leaning against a pillar like a fairy door), and everyone was so stressed. One person literally ripped a hole in the knee of his pants (”Why does my knee feel so weird? What is that? Oh, it’s the floor”) and I think he was about 0.02 seconds away from a breakdown.

At this point, I am basically refusing to participate in this. I did my part, and more importantly, breaking down and moving furniture is not my job, it’s not any of my co-workers’ jobs, and it is not only grossly unfair but truly unsafe to ask us to do this. I hate picking up slack from incompetent people (cough cough the law school cough cough) and I am literally at the point where I feel like, well, if the people who are responsible aren’t gonna do it--it won’t be done! And that’s not my problem. I know the library people are who involving themselves feel differently, and not unreasonably so--some of them see this as a project the director wants and thus their responsibility (not false but also... she had previously told us she didn’t want us moving the furniture for roughly the reasons I just said, and then we do it anyway, so like... I’m tired of this ‘I care about your well being’ talk when it’s backed up by nothing lmao); another rationale is along the lines of ‘If I want this done right, I have to do it myself.’ Okay, fine. The movers and junk people would have trashed furniture we want saved. They’ve already damaged furniture we are saving. That’s still not a reason for me to involve myself.

Another aspect of this, honestly, is that.... before I was able to blinker myself to some degree and just focus on the task at hand, but at this point it’s unavoidable what we’re doing. And I hate it. This space is SO BIG and it’s gonna have... furniture in it. Okay good use of the room I guess :/ May I ask what is so WRONG with STACKS of BOOKS in a LIBRARY?

Never mind that the building is only 15 years old and that when it was renovated it was done in a comprehensive and cohesive way and now one room is going to look completely different for literally no reason why don’t I just throw myself off a cliff.

Anyway, the point of this is that the day was just surreal. I hated the atmosphere. It was also really overcast and stormy and it rained really hard toward the end of the day. People got increasingly loopy. There was a big to do about a coffee table that was saved from destruction but had no particularly nice place to go; we put it in TS, sticking out from the wall, where it was noticeably bigger, longer, and flatter than the previous table and thus looked really funny to us at the time, like a tongue or a surfboard. But in retrospect I have NO idea why any of this was funny.

I’ve been woken up from really intense dreams the last couple nights, and last night’s were awful, nightmarish, disgusting ones. I don’t think the day was helped by this residue in my brain. I was also late getting ready and had to rush to the bus. Somehow, perhaps then, I hurt my leg. Because I couldn’t figure out how I’d done it, I felt like the injury must be fake or like I was exaggerating it. Nevertheless, it did hurt, a lot, and I was limping around all day. It feels like I pulled something in my calf maybe. It’s been better since I got home but I’ve also spent most of this time resting on the couch so it’s not like I’ve been testing it a lot.

So I’ve just felt a little off. But I did accomplish some stuff after work, nothing really strenuous but stuff I did want to get done, and I refrained from watching a horror movie at 10 o’clock at night when I’m already screwed up from... all this. Now I’m going to go to sleep I think. Goals for the weekend are: go out tomorrow since it won’t be too hot; write in the evening (?!?!); laundry and other chores on Sunday. Lots of sleep.

#the year 2022 #2022: rl

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[sixeyesgojo]

soon-to-be father

Summary: In which Gojo proclaims that he will be a father soon.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x female reader

Word count: 993

Content warning: spoiler warning (reference to Volume 0 - mentions of Yuta and his OPness), slight suggestive themes but not too bad

A/N: Idk, I was bored at 3am. Didn’t expect this to become this long.... Also, I don’t exactly remember if Yaga already had a kid or if I just made that up in my head (I do know that he is a divorcee though), so let’s just pretend he has a kid in this one lol

Filing written reports about curse incidents to submit to the elders ruling the jujutsu world was a tedious task. Nonetheless, it had to be done by every jujutsu sorcerer working for Jujutsu Tech.

Returning to the office with a newly filled cup of coffee in your hand, you sat down after putting your warm beverage on the desk. Work was waiting for you, so naturally you got back to writing these reports as soon as possible. You were determined to finish all those reports. Not gonna work overtime today, you thought while writing away your findings about recent curse activity. 

Not much time passed after someone burst into the room loudly. You didn’t even need to confirm with your eyes – it could only be that person.

“State your business, Satoru. I got work to do, unlike you”, you shot at him.

“Woah, so rude! I am wounded,” the man exclaimed and clutched his chest as if he was in pain. “I came here to tell you the good news!”

The tall man settled down on the couch in the office.

“Guess who is going to be a father soon?” Satoru’s voice rang across the room.

“Is it principal Yaga again?” you asked without looking up from your papers once. “Nope, nope, nopeeeeee,” being the obnoxious person he could be, Satoru made sure to pop the ‘p’ of the last one particularly loud. “You are absolutely wrong on this one. Though I suppose I can understand where you are coming from,” he added, waving his hand.

“Guess again, guess again,” he demanded excitedly.

Finally, you shifted your gaze from your lame reports onto the white-haired sorcerer.

“It’s definitely not Nanami,” you stated matter-of-factly as you made your way to him to join him on the couch – the idea of working flew out of the window. You knew how your colleague viewed marriage and romantic commitments as jujutsu sorcerer. Who else could it be? There weren’t many male people involved in the jujutsu world with a connection to you or Satoru-

“I swear, Satoru, if you were going to tell me some higher-up will be father, then I will have you know that I am not interested in this information in the slightest.”

You pulled a grimace and made a gagging noise.

“No, no. Literally ew,” he suppressed a gag as well, “I may have a rotten personality – which you love, I just know – but I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m not that much of an ass.”

“Gosh, Satoru, just spill it already. I can practically see your tail wagging, begging me to ask,” you sighed. Now even you were curious.

If Satoru hadn’t worn a blindfold, there would have been a bright glint from his cerulean eyes. A million-dollar-smile spread on his face, pride emanating from his body.

“It’s me! I am going to be a papa!” He clapped enthusiastically.

Your jaw dropped. Wait what?

“Hold up, wait. What did you just say?!” you burst out.

“I said what I said!” he exclaimed. Was it possible for a grin to be even wider?

“Enlighten my confusion? When did that happen? Did I miss something, like something super important you forgot to tell me?” you asked, bewildered.

“Oh, you didn’t miss anything at all, sweetheart,” the man in front of you replied oh-so-casually, “I’m gonna be a dad and you’ll be the mommy.”

Thousands of emotions flit across your face. The way your level of confusion shot up by a million times clearly amused Satoru to no end. You wanted nothing more than to punch him in the gut if this turned out to be some sort of prank. Mommy?!?!

Nevertheless, you tried to play along: “Too bad I don’t remember consenting to be your girlfriend or anything of the sort.”

A delighted laughter filled the space, “Well, you didn’t exactly turn me down either, just now.”

“If that’s how it’s going to be, I will just say I have no recollection of ever sleeping with you, let alone being pregnant,” you retorted triumphantly.

“Touché.”

“Do you remember Yuta?” he suddenly asked.

“Yeah, like I would forget the precious bean I jokingly called my son, who only narrowly escaped the fate of being executed in his teenager years because his own power was too great and deemed dangerous by the old stick-up-the-ass people we call superiors,” you said flatly.

“Yeah, exactly that Yuta. I am very pleased to tell you that I’m adopting a new one! Meaning you have to help me raise him. Well, technically he will be my student...” Satoru started explaining. “...but you don’t sweat the small stuff,” you finished his sentence. He beamed at you, praising you for how well you knew him and all that stuff.

Well, duh. A new student, huh?

“So explain. What’s the deal with this one?” you asked.

“You see, this boy – his name is Yuji, by the way –  is also facing execution because he swallowed a special grade cursed object,” Satoru revealed dramatically.

“Then... if he is facing execution, that means the special grade curse incarnated but you cannot exorcise him on the spot for some reason,” you theorized, putting two and two together, and the man next to you confirmed your theory.

Satoru clarified further, “You hit the nail on the head. The poor boy seems to be the vessel of Ryomen Sukuna. I managed to postpone his execution until he consumes all twenty fingers though. He will be the third first-year student, so you have to help me!”

“The Double-Faced Specter, huh...” you mumbled to yourself, then your gaze was directed at Satoru, “to me, it sounds like you’re being troublesome again, you ass.”

“Oh please, I know you love ‘troublesome’,” he teased you.

“Yeah, I do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t put up with your sorry ass.”

“Ouch. Will you raise our son with me, though?”

“Oh hell, yeah. Count me in.”

Yeah, work could wait.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #dad!gojo #itadori yuji #okkotsu yuuta #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #gojo being annoying #i wanna adopt yuji as well #papa!gojo

[carpisuns]

Pls tell me more of the luxy agenda

ok u literally asked for this!! lol

so this moment is where it all starts. it’s so gay. look at that.

but if u wanna know my in-depth reasons for liking this ship, read on under the cut lol

for me the core of luxy is twofold:

1. Some characters need a conflicting personality to make a really interesting ship dynamic.

2. Some characters are garbage and need someone really insightful and patient to help them get better.

Personally I feel like Luka’s potential as a character is best served when he is met with opposition. That brings out a side of him we don’t get to see often and provides a challenge he can grow into as a character. Like in Silencer! He’s a very chill dude but when you piss him off, he hisses lol. And I think that is interesting and I want to see more of what Luka is like when he is challenged. Because of this, ships like Lukanette and Lukadrien aren’t really my cup of tea personally (no salt if that is your thing tho!), but ships like Lukloe and Lukagami and Luxy intrigue me because of the personality clash. Luka’s generally very understanding, compassionate, and intuitive, so he can have a softening effect in a ship that could really benefit someone who is a little more emotionally stiff/closed off than he is. And on the other hand, someone with a strong opposing personality could have a fortifying/stretching effect on him, inspiring him to be a little more direct and active and state his needs and wants clearly.

So Luka and XY are already perfect counterparts for this kind of opposites-attract ship. And they also have some key similarities that make them potentially able to relate to each other while also still driving that central conflict. For example, they’re both musicians, but they go about it in opposite ways—creating original, organic-sounding stuff vs digital remixing (and also straight-up ripping off lol). They also both have crappy dads, but Luka's was AWOL his whole life whereas XY's basically controls his life.

Ofc for Luxy to work as a ship, XY has to have redemptive potential, which is very easy for me to invent for him based on this one moment lol:

XY is clearly a terrible person in canon lol but this 1.3-second clip provides just enough to fill in the rest with headcanons that could make Luxy sail 😌 Here are my personal favs:

XY actually is a surprisingly talented musician/DJ in his own right, but his dad discourages him from making his own stuff because he wants to stick with the formula he knows will sell. XY is basically just a face to make money off of, and deep down he is dissatisfied with his father's creative control. He wants to stop stealing and make original music instead, but because of his dad's snide comments, he's afraid he's actually no good anyway.

XY is in the closet but struggles with internalized homophobia because of his homophobic dad. Whenever he tries to talk with his dad about it, Bob shuts him down, makes disparaging remarks, and implies that XY's career and life will be destroyed if he comes out.

XY's fame grants him a wide but shallow social pool. He has lots of fans and a group/posse his dad keeps around him for influence, but he has no close friends and no one he can be honest with about his feelings. Underneath his gaudy bling and scientifically impossible hair, he is just a lonely, scared little boy 😔

So when you mix this all together, what do you get? A enemies-to-lovers slowburn that inspires character development on both sides (and a whole redemption for XY), with plenty of room both for crack/clownery and angst and hurt/comfort. And there is also some great symbolism involved, with Luka being the hero of second chances. Very tasty, in my humble opinion 🤠

If you made it this far and you're actually interested in seeing content for this ship, here's some of my fav stuff!

"Pretender" mini animatic by @gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights

Macaroni mini animatic by @bugaboo-n-bananoir

Heartsong (Needs More Bass Drops) by @gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights

Luka and XY's Excellent Adventure by @gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights, ft amazing art by @bugaboo-n-bananoir!!

Aged-up domenstic Luxy by @bugaboo-n-bananoir

Viperxy by @bugaboo-n-bananoir

Luxy frenemies by @bugaboo-n-bananoir and @gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights

Urinals by @lllluka

Luxy guitar by @kagamitsu

Luxy bike ride by @gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights

Luxy week drawings by @landturtlealyce/@daily-miracuclass

I Can't Help Falling in Love With You by @janaikam

there is actually a surprising amount of great content for this ship haha, much more than i could fit here, so i would recommend checking out the #luxy tag for any of these blogs 😎 also @janaikam created @luxyweek earlier this year, so you can check that out too!

this was probably much more than you bargained for but you did ask for it and i was not going to turn this opportunity away :) lol

#anon #ask #luxy #rant tag #luka #xy

[lovecolibri]

I just want to tell you that I love you so much because we think the same in particular about b/t. I really hoped we'd have the same scenes a/e had, I wasn't prepared for this much. I mean I get it's important for buck, but why we have to see every second of this awful relationship? The ana/eddie breakup was wonderful and we felt all eddie's pain, but we didn't see episodes on episodes full of their scenes. Let's hope in 5x12 it'd be over

Awwwww thanks nonnie, that's so sweet! 🥺

I'm guessing this is about my tags on this post and yes I absolutely agree. I was also not prepared for the amount of screen time we were going to have to suffer through with bt. I was really trying to bite my tongue in season 4 about my feelings on her character and did my best to get behind their friendship because m/f friendships aren't seen as much as they should be, and it's not like she was around much.

But once 4x14 made it clear they were going the relationship route I was done. Buck wanting anything to do with her after 2x06 when he found out the truth that she fought to air that stuff about Bobby never made any sense for me, and made even LESS sense after all the awful thing she said to him earlier in the season. "Intimidated by strong women?" Ma'am, where?! When?! 🙄 but also "needy"? Right after the audience learned about Buck's childhood trauma? They haven't been subtle about her not sticking around or trying to get the audience to like her, so I'm just curious as to why we have had to see so much of her.

Like, we're not supposed to like her, she's not sticking around, so what the hell was Ghost Stories? In a year no one will care about an entire episode dedicated to a case that has nothing to do with, and almost entirely doesn't involve, the main cast or tie in with them and another case (like Athena's missing persons case and Sue's hit-and-run being the same thing). But a year later everyone would have still wanted to watch firefam shenanigans and the 5 cut scenes of the Ghost Roommate Call.

Same with Past Is Prologue, in a year when she's gone forever no one will care about her "backstory", and even that was still told and framed entirely from Buck's POV because this story isn't about her.

The show has made it abundantly clear, from the writing, directing, acting choices, framing, even the costumes and music, that bt are wrong for each other, but it's so hard to watch and we've had to suffer through so much of it! Buck is clearly miserable all the time, and when he's not actively looking miserable, he's clearly putting up a front. He hasn't been himself around her like, ever, and the only time he tried to open up, he got told that not everything is about him. I do think she was trying there, and wasn't actively being malicious or anything but she has canonically never once given a single fuck about anyone's emotional state but her own and how she's being affected by things so a) she doesn't know how to help Buck because b) she doesn't really know him at all and c) it's still more about her restoring what she thinks is the "balance" in their relationship where Buck goes back to being the version of himself she recognizes and wants to be with.

She's literally trying to force Buck out of the trap he's in, instead of climbing in with him like Bobby told Buck he needed to do with Abby in season 1 (and what Buck immediately applied to his relationships with Eddie and Maddie in season 2), which is...interesting to say the least. I wasn't really on board with the "Buck is Taylor's Abby" theory because Buck is still putting all the emotional labor into this relationship and doing all the supporting and heavy lifting just like he was with Abby, but the parallels just keep popping up and after 5x09 it's pretty clear that she's in a different place than he is in the relationship. Which, it isn't hard to see why since she's getting everything she wants/needs out of the relationship while not noticing that Buck isn't getting anything he truly wants/needs. Which is a compelling story for Buck's arc, and is going to provide growth for him! Yay! But also, as you said, they absolutely got the same kind of point across with Eddie and his relationship (that breakup was riveting to watch), but they managed it in sooooo much less screen time!

Let's just hope that big wrench arrives sooner rather than later in 5b because I can't take much more of Buck looking so lost and alone, and I absolutely cannot take ANY more of her being on my screen and taking time away from characters I actually care about and want to see. And also poor Oliver deserves a break from having to play Buck being lonely and miserable and not getting to work as much with such great scene partners like JLH and Kenneth Choi, and having less time with Ryan, Aisha, Peter, and Angela. I just want the firefam back together! I have a feeling though that 5b is going to deliver some great stuff.

Sorry this got long and ranty. I just have a lot of feelings, and I'm out of fucks to give 🤷🏻‍♀️ Thanks for giving me a moment to vent, nonnie! Come back any time!

#my sweet nonnie friends #911 #evan buckley #anti taylor kelly #anti bucktaylor #when is she going to leeeeeaaaave?! #it's been 84 years we have suffered enough #someone free oliver he is literally begging #that all said i can't wait to see buck set himself free from this misery because he finally realizes he deserves better #and it's okay to want and need better and let go of things that are not fulfilling for you

[robininthelabyrinth]

CQL-Verse: Wen Ning did a whole lot of risky stuff saving JC and the bodies at Lotus Pier. What if NMJ hears and gets talked into helping protect him and the Wen remnants by the Jiang bros, because even if he's a wen, he still 1. whole ass poisoned wen chao 2. straight up commited treason and was punished for it to protect sect heirs and 3. is extremely baby brotherable. you can fit so much h/c into this bad boy

ao3

Untamed

1

Wen Qing was angry about the trials, but Wen Ning thought they made a reasonable amount of sense.

After all, how was the rest of the cultivation world supposed to know what they did in the war without a proper trial? It was only reasonable for them to make certain assumptions about them based on their surname, the same way everyone assumed that those surnamed Jin were rich, those surnamed Lan were beautiful, those surnamed Jiang were bold to the point of arrogance…

The Nie were supposedly known for their tempers, but Wen Ning hadn’t seen much evidence of that so far.

In fairness, his only experiences with a Nie were, firstly, with Nie Huaisang at the Cloud Recesses, which he was fairly sure didn’t count, and now, during the trial, with Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue laughed the entire trial.

“You poisoned the wine,” he sniggered. “At their own celebratory feast…! And then you just went straight to Yiling, where your sister was in charge. And it still took him how long to find you?”

“Weeks,” Wen Ning meekly admitted.  

“Can we go back to the bit where you saved Wei-xiong from the giant dog beast using stolen needles?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“No, we cannot,” Nie Mingjue’s deputy – a somewhat long-suffering looking man that they all called Meng Yao – said. “He’s already gone over it four times, Huaisang.”

“But –”

“No.”

“Spoilsport! Look at how much fun da-ge’s having; it’s not fair.”

“He’s the sect leader. If he wants to hoot like a shrieking monkey, he’s entitled to it.”

“I’m not hooting,” Nie Mingjue protested. “I am recognizing talent.”

“Talent.”

“Exactly. Talent.”

“At…what, exactly?”

“Causing trouble,” Nie Huaisang volunteered. “I recognize it from Wei-xiong, I could spot it anywhere.”

“Could we possibly proceed with the trial?” Meng Yao asked, obviously deciding not to continue with that discussion. “We have six more to finish today. Can I assume that given the evidence of Wen-gongzi’s subversive activities and his subsequent imprisonment throughout much of the Sunshot Campaign, he is absolved of all crimes and allowed to go free?”

“You spoilsport,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes at him. “Yes, I think so. Wen Qionglin, you are free to go your own way – though if you wish to stay here in Qinghe as a guest cultivator, we would be glad to have you for however long you wish.”

Wen Ning thought that sounded all right.

2

The Nie sect were known for their tempers, and justly so, but Wen Ning quickly figured out that he didn’t need to be afraid of Nie Mingjue’s occasional outbursts (quickly roused, quickly doused) or Nie Huaisang’s temper tantrums (petty) and occasional grudge-holding (rarer but much more dangerous).

No, Wen Ning figured out very quickly in his first weeks that the one to be afraid of was clearly Meng Yao.

Wen Ning had been weak and sickly his whole life in a sect that valued strength above all; he had survived hiding behind his sister, but she couldn’t always be there for him, no matter how she tried. He’d soon learned that surviving on his own meant being quiet and obedient, never making trouble or drawing attention to himself, and it also meant being extremely attuned to the minute expressions that might signal the difference between Wen Chao being angry enough to throwing a teacup at his head and being angry enough to order him to be taken outside and beaten until unconscious.

The same skills helped him in the Nie sect, where people were very often angry. Wen Ning could tell the difference between Nie Mingjue raging to let out steam (moderately common and generally innocuous, easily ignored) and being actually upset (typically only dangerous to the furniture, which was a nice change, but more worrisome in the sense that he might go and do something stupid afterwards), and he could tell that Nie Huaisang’s true anger, so rarely triggered, tended more towards the cold and hidden (definitely a sign he was going to do something, but unfortunately for everyone involved it’d invariably be far more malicious - enough to make you long for stupid).

He could tell that Meng Yao was, despite all his smiles, very often angry.

Like Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao’s temper was easily roused to the point of fury; like Nie Huaisang, his anger lasted a long time and usually called for some malicious action before it could be properly assuaged.

“Senior Meng,” Wen Ning tentatively said one day when his curiosity got to be too much for him. “Could I ask a rude question?”

Meng Yao’s temper, hidden deep in his eyes, flared at once, preemptively, and Wen Ning shivered and looked down at the ground. He had known what he was risking, but he hoped that asking permission in advance might allow him to get the question out with minimal reprisals – cold meals for a few days, perhaps, or being assigned to the training yard only when the most sadistic training-master was supervising, but only for a week or so.

“Of course, Wen-gongzi,” Meng Yao said, and he sounded nice and pleasant and like no question could possibly be rude enough to cause him any disturbance. It was a little frightening how good he was at that. “I can’t imagine what you would want to know that would be rude.”

“Are you related?” Wen Ning blurted out. “To Sect Leader Nie, I mean – his family –”

Meng Yao stared at him. His mouth was slightly hanging open.

“…it’s a stupid question,” Wen Ning concluded, feeling ashamed. Of course Meng Yao had been promoted entirely on merit; it was only his imagination getting away from him. “I’m sorry. I’ll go –”

“No, wait,” Meng Yao croaked. “Related – to the Nie sect – forgive me. How did you reach that conclusion?”

“I mean, you’re obviously treated as part of the main family,” Wen Ning pointed out. There were plenty of Nie cousins that weren’t treated anywhere near as well; both Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang were not only protective but almost possessive over Meng Yao’s time and dignity - surely by now everyone knew that the surest way to get them each angry in their own ways was to slight Meng Yao. “You wear Nie braids like them – you wear clothing like them – you have a temper like them –”

Meng Yao started laughing.

“…did I miss something?”

3

“I’m surprised you didn’t go to the Lotus Pier after you’d been absolved,” Nie Huaisang said, tapping the weiqi piece on the board a few times before making a move. “Given your fondness for Wei-xiong and all that.”

“Wei-gongzi’s very nice,” Wen Ning said vaguely, staring down at the board. He’d played a lot of weiqi in his life – including against Wen Ruohan when the man had still been remotely sane, mostly because he’d been the only one stuck back at the palace with him more often than not – but playing against Nie Huaisang required all of his attention. The first time he looked away, he’d get lured into a trap. “Very kind.”

“And yet you stay here,” Nie Huaisang prompted. “In Qinghe, with us, when even your sister picked the Lotus Pier.”

Wen Ning had never been without his sister this long before. He knew that she still expected him to come to the Lotus Pier. She hadn’t expected him to last the week without her; she’d said as much when she first went, huffing at him for being ridiculous – a Wen as a guest cultivator in the Nie sect, of all places? – and telling him, in between reminders to take his medicine on time, that she’d prepare a place for him there so that he would be comfortable when he arrived.

Her letters, in the weeks and now months since that time, had never overtly asked when he was going to finally get around to moving there, and had recently developed an almost quizzical tone, as if she’d finally realized that he wasn’t.

“I like it here,” Wen Ning said, and moved his piece.

Nie Huaisang moved his own almost immediately in response, which meant that Wen Ning had made a horrible mistake that played straight into Nie Huaisang’s hands. Not an uncommon occurrence. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “We like having you here, too.”

Surprised, Wen Ning looked up.

Nie Huaisang was smiling at him – he smiled nearly as often as Meng Yao, but unlike Meng Yao, he never smiled if he didn’t want to, so his smiles were actually sincerely meant each and every time. He had a wide range of smiles: nervous smiles, cheerful smiles, devious smiles…

Wen Ning was good at reading expressions, but he had to admit he’d never had to work as hard at it as he did with Nie Huaisang.

“We’re a very nice sect, really,” Nie Huaisang said, and even seemed to believe it. “We’re always open to people who are like us. The only thing we can’t tolerate is injustice and betrayal; as long as you stick with us and put us first, you’re ours, and we’re yours.”

That sounded nice, Wen Ning thought, and moved a piece blindly. “You think I’m like you? My sister doesn’t think so.”

“I think you fit in very nicely,” Nie Huaisang said, and his smile had teeth to it. He moved quickly, again. “You’re angry and resentful, but you don’t let it get in the way of what you want - just like us. Your sister probably doesn’t think that about you, either, but then again, that’s why she’s in the Jiang sect, with their heads in the air, dreaming of the impossible. I bet she never even noticed that you had a temper.”

She hadn’t. Wen Ning had been her baby brother and nothing else for a long time; he never had to defend himself as long as she was around. 

He’d never had the chance to defend himself.

(He didn’t resent her for that. He didn’t. She was his big sister, his favorite person, and he loved her so much that he didn’t mind the way that all her fussing sometimes made the world feel cramped and small, as if he were being forced into a place that he’d long since outgrown.)

“Do I have a temper?” he asked, and moved another piece.

“Oh, yes,” Nie Huaisang said. “You’re like me – slow to boil – and like Meng Yao, hiding it behind your eyes. You’re even a bit like da-ge: you don’t need to be the one get the frustration out as long as something deals with it, but if nothing does, it nags at you and wears at you, like a thorn stuck in your flesh, until you can’t be silent any longer. Until you have to do something, or else you’ll explode.”

That sounded about right, Wen Ning thought. He’d never really had a chance to explode in the Wen sect, out of fear of what they’d do to his sister if he did, and he’d been sick with it – he’d limited himself to little rebellions, nameless pranks, right up until he met Wei Wuxian, who was kind to him, and couldn’t stop himself from helping him. He sometimes thought, in the days he’d spent in the dungeons, that if he died he’d come back as a fierce corpse, soul-calming rituals or no, and he’d might even enjoy it if only for the opportunity to finally vent his feelings – to finally pay back every single injustice that he’d ever seen, each one marked down in his heart in an indelible list of regrets.

Maybe Nie Huaisang was right. 

Maybe that was why he stayed here, in the Nie sect, the sect of do not tolerate evil instead of the Lan sect’s chivalry and righteousness or the Jiang sect’s attempt the impossible.

Maybe he wanted to fight back for once. To have a temper, to have rage, to be something more than Wen Qing’s shy, stuttering shadow.

“I like it here,” he said again, but if his words were the same then the flavor was different: he meant it this time.  

He understood, this time, what he meant by it.

Nie Huaisang smiled at him and moved another piece. Winning the game, Wen Ning noticed.

“Good,” he said. “Now move over – sit in front of the mirror. I’ll show you how to do your hair right.”

“Really?”

“Really. Also, Da-ge’s been practically champing at the bit to teach you saber, and Meng Yao has been making grandiose plans about redoing the way we recruit and train doctors with you leading the charge, so if you’re not up for either of those, now’s the time to say something.”

Wen Ning settled down in front of the mirror.

“No,” he said. “Those sound good to me.”

#mdzs #wen ning #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #meng yao #my fic #my fics #be happy #plotdesigner

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school