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Like... i have to make sure my meals are nutritionally balanced... i have to make sure that the space i occupy is big enough, and interesting enough, and provide enrichment to make up for the lack of novelty... i have to make sure i get exercise... i'm not qualified for this
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i looked at this prompt and thought âoh i could go so angsty with thisâ and then tried to find as much fluff potential as possible đ thank you so, so much for sending this in, i adored writing it! i added a plus one time he finds something!
give me a character, and a situation, and Iâll write you 5 ficlets on 5 times that situation occurred
#1) Lotus Pods
âSee, this is how you take the seeds out.â Jiang Cheng sat on the bank of the river and Wei Wuxian crouched at his side. Wei Wuxian wasnât quite sure what to think of his new brotherâs often surprising temper, but he had decided that he very much liked having a brother anyway. âNow you try.â
Wei Wuxian looked down at the lotus pod in his own hands. He carefully tried to pluck out a seed as Jiang Cheng had shown him, but it slipped to fall on the ground.
âItâs okay, you can have some of mine,â Jiang Cheng said, holding out a seed.
Wei Wuxian cupped his hand and Jiang Cheng carefully put the seed in it. He ate it with a smile. It was still odd (and wonderful!) to be able to eat food even when he wasnât hungry. âThanks!â
âHmph,â Jiang Cheng said, which meant âyouâre very welcomeâ Wei Wuxian was pretty sure. âGo pick more pods, Iâll get the seeds and we can bring them to shijie.â
âOkay!â He scrambled up, being careful not to knock over the basket they brought. Taking off his shoes and rolling up his pants, he splashed into the water. He began picking pods, but dropped them after just a moment as he called, âI see a frog!â
âReally? Where?â Jiang Cheng left the shore and carefully waded his way.
âShh, right in front of me, behind some leaves,â Wei Wuxian whispered. âShould I catch it?â
âBet you canât,â Jiang Cheng challenged.
Glancing over his shoulder he saw the other boy was smiling. Grinning back, Wei Wuxian called, âI bet I can catch more frogs than you can!â before diving into the lotuses, the pods heâd already picked floating forgotten (and later lost) in the water.
#2) A Drawing
Wei Wuxian dug around his spare clothes, tossing them to the side.
âArenât you supposed to be packing?â Nie Huaisang asked, appearing to lean against the doorway.
âHe is,â Jiang Cheng, the traitor, said from his side of the room.
âI will, I will, I just need to find something first!â Wei Wuxian said, looking around.
âWhatâre you looking for?â Nie Huaisang moved closer, ignoring the way Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes.
âItâs nothing really!â Wei Wuxian said but not loud enough to cover Jiang Cheng.
âA picture for âLan Zhanâ.â The name was said in Jiang Chengâs rude (in Wei Wuxianâs opinion) imitation of Wei Wuxianâs voice. He didnât sound like that!
Nie Huaisang gave a little laugh. âOh really? And why would an esteemed Jade of Lan want that?â
âNo reason,â Wei Wuxian said quickly. It was a drawing of some of the rabbits from the cave. That way Lan Wangji could have a reminder of them and of the promises the two of them made together. Wei Wuxian remembered the way Lan Wangji smiled at the lantern art.
âOf course.â Nie Huaisang was covering a smile with their fan. âDid it fall behind the bed?â
Wei Wuxian stopped digging through his clothes and tugged the bed a little way from the wall. Sure enough, the paper had slipped behind. He pulled it out triumphantly, before carefully holding it so neither Nie Huaisang nor Jiang Cheng could see what was on it. They wouldnât understand.
âYouâre welcome,â Nie Huaisang said, and then looked from one brother to the other. âAny other way I can be of help?â
âNo, youâve done enough damage,â Jiang Cheng grumbled. âThough I guess now he will pack.â
âI need to give this to Lan Zhan!â Wei Wuxian hurried out of the room.
Nie Huaisangâs laughter and Jiang Chengâs cursing could be heard from behind him as Wei Wuxian navigated the Cloud Recesses one more time. He hoped Lan Wangji would smile again.
#3) Chenqing
âYou lost your spiritual tool,â Wen Qing asked flatly.
âI wouldnât say lost it...â Wei Wuxian tried to persuade. He was washing a-Yuanâs clothes at the moment and Wen Qing had appeared to drop her own and Grannyâs on the pile for him to clean as well. âI just donât have it right now.â
âCanât you feel it?â Wen Qing asked.
Wei Wuxian didnât really like talking about his connection to Chenqing (and it would only make her worry), so he joked instead. âI think the blood pool ate it!â
âThe blood pool didnât eat it.â She settled on a rock near him.
Wei Wuxian was glad to see her taking even a little bit of a break. Wen Qing had been using so much of her energy healing all the Wens. None of them had been in good shape. âMaybe Uncle planted it?â he offered next
âNo.â She hadnât laughed, but the tension in her face lessened.
âIt would grow and make cursed fruit,â Wei Wuxian chatted on, turning to focus on some dirt that was packed into the knees of a-Yuanâs pants. âThen we can have cursed fruit wine and sell it at a high price!â
âWho would want to buy cursed wine?â She took the wet clothes when he passed them to her and set them on a different nearby rock to dry.
âSomeone who has already had too much regular wine?â he mused.
âAlright, but how do we sell it to a vendor?â
Wei Wuxian thought that over. âWeâll just have to open an inn. Be our own vendor.â Finally, she gave a little snort of laughter. He turned away to hide his own smile.
âI see. Iâll inform Uncle of the plans.â Wen Qing stood then, stretching. âGet some rest after you finish here.â
âOnly if you do the same!â
âWeâre both going to die of exhaustion,â she declared with a sigh as she wandered away.
#4) a-Yuan
âA-Yuan!â Why did he always have to run off when Wei Wuxian was trying to buy potatoes? Had Wen Qing trained him to do this to prevent him from bringing potatoes home? If so, it was a very clever tactic.
Wei Wuxian moved through the crowd, swallowing down the hope that once more Lan Wangji would appear and save the day. That was something that would only happen once in their lives.
âA-Yuan!â He came around the corner to find a-Yuan was playing with two kids who seemed to be close to him in age. They were all playing with little grass butterflies, which was probably what attracted a-Yuan away from Wei Wuxian in the first place.
A young woman who was nearby spotted him and came over. âAre you his dad?â
Wei Wuxian nodded because the truth was too complicated and there was something that longed for her simple question to be that truth.
She smiled. âOh good, I was worried where he might have come from when my girls got his attention. Sorry, they gave you a scare.â
âAs long as heâs safe,â Wei Wuxian smiled back. âWe donât live in town, so he doesnât get to play much with other kids.â
âAh, I wondered why you didnât look familiar,â she said. âHeâs been very good and gentle. Heâs a very sweet kid.â
âYes, he is. Thank you,â Wei Wuxian felt something calm in his heart. A-Yuanâs smile... that was why they had done all of this. This was what made all their hardships worth it, seeing a-Yuan grow and learn and be happy.
Now if only he could teach the kid to stop wandering away...
#5) A Teacup
Wei Wuxian stared at the table and frowned, hands on his hips. He had wanted to surprise Lan Wangji by putting together a meal for them to share (and making sure it wasnât spicy at all). Lan Wangji had been so busy with his new duties and Wei Wuxian knew how much his husband could use a break. A quiet evening together would be the perfect surprise.
But one of the teacups was missing. Wei Wuxian crouched and looked to see if it had rolled under the table and then looked under all the other furniture in the room. The little white cup was nowhere to be seen.
He could take out their second set, but he had already put food in this one. It would be silly to mess more dishes just for things to be âperfect.â Sighing, Wei Wuxian took out just a cup from the other set and placed it.
Lan Wangji didnât comment on it when they sat together to eat, serving each other with the ease of ever-growing familiarity. His husband did smile, as if having a private joke, at the black teacup among the rest of the white dishes.
Ah.
Wei Wuxian hid his own smile as he drank from the cup itself. The parallel was pretty funny, now that he thought of it.
+1) A Home
The early fall evening held the hint of coming chill, a crispness that was refreshing after the summer. Wei Wuxian breathed in deeply as he tended to the lotuses he and Lan Wangji had coaxed into growing among the rest of the garden.
The Cloud Recesses were quiet around him but for Lan Wangjiâs playing, which wrapped out from the open Jingshi door. But Wei Wuxian remembered the sound of his little Lan studentsâ soft laughter, the sounds that were always coming from the communal kitchen during the day, and the sound of practice swords striking or music being perfected. The Cloud Recesses were rarely as quiet as their rules would imply.
Wei Wuxian leaned back on his heels to turn his gaze down toward the buildings that the Jingshi was set apart from. What filled him was contentment. He didnât feel trapped, as his teen self would have pictured. He was older now, had been through a lot more and sometimes the quiet was nice. Soothing. Other times, it was fun to try and figure out how to flex those Lan rules. Kept his mind sharp!
Wei Wuxian was apprehensive to think of this as home. He had lost too many homes before. But as the years passed and he found himself with a place he would always be welcome... where kids laughed, where he got to be with his husband, where he got to see their son and nephew often, where Wen Ning has his own little space within walking distance... It was becoming harder and harder to resist the truth.
Heâd found another home. Maybe this time, heâd get to keep it.
My initial thought that led to this prompt was something like âWei Wuxian, terrifying genius and ADHD icon, canât find his demon flute because he put it down somewhere and then got distracted,â then I actually read the words I wrote and was like hm I guess it could be super angsty too. But the fluff and Relatable Losing Stuff Content is wonderful and amazing and Iâm glad you picked that direction for it :D
I love how you spread the sections over different eras of his life, you managed to tie in so many different moods and relationships and I love how the variety in those things bring out wwxâs personality as a connecting thread - heâs so himself in each of them, even though his surroundings and the experiences heâs had at each point in time are so radically different.
I especially love the silly conversation about cursed wine he has with Wen Qing, I just love their friendship and you write it so well. And âliterally lost a child once, on screenâ was also one of the things I was thinking of when I thought of the prompt, I laughed out loud at him wondering if Wen Qing had trained a-Yuan to run off to prevent potato purchases đ
This is a snippet of an AU in the world of the Locked Tomb books. There are major spoilers for Gideon the Ninth and minor spoilers for Harrow the Ninth in this; feel free to revisit this ficlet after youâve read the books which are super good.Â
Iâve taken some heavy liberties with the setting for cavalier/necromancer driftrod reasons.Â
âWeâve found you a partner,â Springer says as Hot Rod walks into his office.Â
Hot Rod isnât surprised. No oneâs supposed to know that a Second House cav, a Sixth House cav, and a Third House dignitary with no battle skills to speak of were, more or less willingly, recovered from Canaan House and supposedly recruited, but everyone knows anyway. Most of the base doesnât like this plan - of course survivors of whatever Lyctor-murderfest was going on there would join up when they donât have anywhere else to go, and of course theyâre going to ditch BoE the second they see a way home.Â
BoE needs them, though. Or at least, Hot Rod does. Everyone knows that he wouldnât last ten minutes on a battlefield without someone watching his back, and no one trains for that job in BoE. House necromancers, the only necromancers out here, have to be paired with House cavaliers.Â
Heâd assumed that Arcee would be his cavalier forever when theyâd first been matched after Hot Rod arrived, but she and her wife have a baby now and Hot Rodâs been all but grounded ever since she quit going out in the field. They would send him out alone if there was an emergency, of course. Hot Rod suspects heâs only alive because there hasnât been an emergency.Â
Arcee had been hoping heâd quit too, he thinks. Sheâd understood his drive to fight, but sheâd also seen the way they look at him - like heâs a weapon, like heâs a thing. Sheâd probably thought that if he walked away, he could find family again like she had.
But heâs still alive for one reason only, and thatâs to fight back. His only skill to speak of is destruction, and even though it makes him monstrous in BoEâs eyes, theyâre willing to send him on missions because no one else here can do what he does. He could do without them being just as willing to laugh at him for the way he passes out if he doesnât have dirt to siphon thanergy from as they leave a planet and the disciplinary marks he gets for having to sleep through most of his first forty-eight hours on any space station, but none of that is enough to make him give up.Â
âWhich one is it?â Hot Rod asks. Surely Springer knows that he knows about the recruits - heâs at least as tapped into the gossip as Hot Rod.Â
âHis name is Deadlock,â says Springer.Â
Thatâs quite possibly the least Sixth House name Hot Rod has ever heard, so Second House it is. Dread curdles in his gut. Heâd heard that the Second House cav had only stopped fighting back when heâd been stabbed and nearly killed. Heâs probably a soldier, and more likely than the rest to still be loyal to the Houses. How is he going to react to Hot Rod, who betrayed them so explosively?
But he canât say any of that to Springer. Whatever goes wrong is certainly no more than he deserves. âUnderstood.âÂ
**
âIâm Rodimus. It looks like weâre going to be working together,â Rodimus says, forcing a smile. Heâd been considering the switch for years, with the way his old name sometimes feels like a secure thread connecting him to his past but more and more often like the weight of it yoked over his shoulders. Heâd submitted the official name change request as soon as heâd left Springerâs office and sent a memo to his closest associates, of which there arenât many. The name change isnât guaranteed to keep Deadlock from figuring out who he is, but itâs certainly worth trying.Â
Deadlock looks like heâs around Rodimusâs age, wary and obviously still injured as he looks at him from across the table. Thereâs a stretch of silence before he speaks, and Rodimus braces himself for Deadlock to have figured out his secret already.Â
âIâm Drift,â he says, finally. Rodimus takes note of the change, hopes it was the reason for the pause instead of anything to do with Rodimus.Â
It feels like it means something, that heâs chosen to change his name now. It feels like it means he wonât kill Rodimus in his sleep, at least.
**
Rodimus and Drift are largely left alone to train together; no one in BoE wants to supervise a partnership that goes against everything they stand for, even though theyâre willing to keep whatever necros and cavs they get their hands on for their undeniable effectiveness. Springer is the closest thing to a real supporter, but even he insists on just letting them train how they like, with the polite excuse that he has nothing to contribute. Rodimus tries to keep himself from feeling slighted or abandoned and it never really works.Â
It slips his mind easily enough when his and Driftâs shuttle lands on a quiet corner of one of BoEâs sanctuary planets, and he has thanergy at his fingertips for the first time in months.Â
There are no humans buried nearby, so Rodimus is limited to the corpses of small animals. Itâs plenty of thanergy to channel into a region far from the shuttle and free of live animals and tweak it into a massive fireball that sends flames and smoke high into the air.Â
Drift steps up beside him, one hand on his sheathed rapier. âWow. That was just...wow.â
Rodimus glances at him, looking for irony or a flat-out lie, but heâs still staring at the blacked dirt where the fireball was, eyes wide in seemingly genuine awe. âYou were Cohort, right? Havenât you seen a Fourth House necro work before?â
Drift looks at Rodimus, in that intense way he has that makes Rodimus want to take a step back. âI only joined a few years ago,â he says. What he doesnât say, after all the Fourth House necromancers died, sits thick in the air between them.Â
âRight.â It makes sense, now that Rodimus thinks about it. Most houses donât start shipping adepts into the field until theyâve turned 18. And after...well, after Rodimus, technically, the Fourth House hadn't had anyone left to spare.Â
He wonders who Fourth House sent to the First at the Emperorâs call. He hopes it wasnât Flamewar, but he doesnât bother to hope very hard.Â
Drift is still looking at him, and when he notices again he does take a step away, shaking his head and clapping his hands. âOkay. Training. I have complete control over the blast radius, but that only helps me avoid hitting you if I know where you are,â he says. âMy last cav and I worked a lot on positioning for different types of fights. I can walk you through what we did, and weâll adapt what we need to.âÂ
âYour last cav...â Drift trails off instead of finishing his question, but itâs obvious what he wants to ask.Â
âSheâs alive! Sheâs fine, she just has a family now and wanted to retire from active duty.âÂ
âOh.â Drift tries to smile, but itâs thin and troubled.Â
âYou were paired with a necro before you were picked up, right?âÂ
Driftâs smile disappears. He nods.Â
Rodimus waits. Theyâre going to have to talk about it if theyâre going to work together at all, so it might as well be now, when the loss isnât a schism between them yet.Â
âHis name was Wing,â Drift says, sounding...unlike himself. Angry, bitter. More like Rodimus had expected Deadlock to sound, before theyâd actually been introduced. âHe died at Canaan House.âÂ
âIâm sorry,â Rodimus said.Â
Drift smiles at him, softer and more real this time, then looks off into the distance. âI know who you are, you know,â he says. âThereâs only been one Fourth House defector in decades.â
Rodimusâs whole body tenses. âWho am I, then?â he asks.Â
Drift smiles again. âYouâre Rodimus. My necromancer.â
I took a looser interpretation of this prompt - thinking about âtensionâ led to âromantic tensionâ which led to the fake dating briefing the afternoon before youâre supposed to go on your first public fake date with your crush and here we areÂ
**
âAnd if things get really bad, you can ask Soundwave if he wants to go outside and get high off of sealant fumes, and he will always, always say yes. If you get him talking about Earth music, he will continue to talk about it until you come up with an excuse to go back in and he doesnât really care if you listen.â
âDeadlock. Iâm not going to sneak out of Megatronâs awful party, even on the off chance that itâs actually as awful as you keep making it out to be.â Why would he, when he only agreed to this scheme in the first place because it meant spending an entire evening standing close enough to Deadlock to feel the warmth of his frame, holding his hand, and even kissing him if he manages to work up the courage?
âUgh. Youâre not prepared at all.â
âStarscreamâs making you bring an Autobot as a date to repay an old favor, right? To take the attention off of how heâs also bringing an Autobot as his date?âÂ
Deadlock grunts in the way Hot Rod has learned to tell is an affirmative answer.Â
âWhen has Starscream ever succeeded at not being the center of attention? Thatâs such a terrible plan. Iâll get a free meal, weâll both keep straight faces while internally cracking up at whatever kind of scene Starscream makes, and itâll be great.âÂ
âThe food wonât even be good. Megatron doesnât believe in energon additives.âÂ
Iâm doing it for you, not the food, Hot Rod wants to say. He forces the urge down. Fake date, he reminds himself. Fake.Â
Date.Â
That thought leads his mind to a perfectly acceptable thing to say. âWe should practice kissing!âÂ
Deadlockâs optics are bright and intense when he turns toward Hot Rod, and thereâs a moment where Hot Rod is torn between speeding away or kissing him senseless.Â
âOkay,â Deadlock says. Kissing him senseless is definitely the verdict, and maybe this was a bad idea, actually.Â
Hot Rod waits for Deadlock to lean forward a little, and then leans in to kiss him. He keeps it gentle even though the urge to tackle Deadlock and twine all his limbs around him has not gone away. Itâs nice enough that he feels lost when Deadlock finally, after more time than a practice kiss probably warranted, pulls away.Â
Something settles inside him, though, when he sees Deadlockâs face, and...âIâve never seen you smile like that.â
âIâm just so excited to see what kind of scene Starscream makes,â Deadlock says.Â
Hot Rod tries not to look disappointed and feels himself failing, which he canât really be blamed for considering that Deadlock basically just threw a bucket of liquid nitrogen at his internals.Â
â...with you,â Deadlock says, looking right at Hot Rod with that smile still on his face. Hot Rod canât help but grin back. Yes, itâs a fake date, but Deadlockâs smile is undeniably real.Â
I saw âteethâ and thought âangsty vampire au? angsty vampire au!â instead of anything normal so hereâs that. Warnings for canon-typical violence/gore and references to starvation.Â
Not every battle smells like Nyon.Â
Some of them are hand-fought, with gushes of MTOs hacking at each other and both sides depleted of heavy artillery. Those battles smell like curdled energon and the other essences of quick deaths. Other battles are fought in space, or on planets with no atmosphere.Â
Every other battle smells like Nyon.
This one has smelled like Nyon for weeks and itâs been nearly unbearable the whole time. The particular scents of bombs and burned-out internals from too much strain on too little energon must cover half the planet by now. When the Autobotsâ forces are bolstered and suddenly theyâre winning the battle, itâs barely a relief.Â
Hot Rod is scouting territory that the Decepticons have just retreated from when he sees Deadlock. More accurately, he almost trips over him. Normally, upon seeing what looks like the corpse of a Decepticon that dangerous, he would sound an alarm and summon a team to make sure of his corpse-hood and take him into custody if thereâs still life in his spark.Â
But he doesnât, because thereâs a familiar scent coming from Deadlock. He smells like Nyon.Â
**
There had always been some disagreement, in Nyon, over whether or not the empties were dead. That their sparks had stopped once was irrefutable; the question was whether what powered their frames after was a spark at all. It was difficult to kill them again, which would have been an advantage if it wasnât paired with a severe vulnerability: empties could no longer activate energon on their own, making regular energon useless to them, and forcing them to depend on energon that had already cycled through a frame with a living spark to survive. Theyâd been common in Nyon - an empty became an empty when their frame was depleted of energon so quickly that their spark shorted out, rather than gradually cycling the frameâs energy levels down until the frame went into forced stasis. All the empties Hot Rod had known in Nyon had died there, and he hasnât noticed any since - theyâre indistinguishable from other Cybertronians most of the time, except when theyâve used up all the energy in the energon theyâve been transferred and fall into their own version of stasis. They go very still, in a way more reminiscent of stasis than death, but the deactivated energon sitting in their lines has a unique scent, one that somehow reminds Hot Rod of both life and death.
He knows that not all the empties who have ever existed were in Nyon; the Autobot medical corps have a section of handbook about them, and it stands to reason that energon thieves or a particular kind of injury could have essentially the same effect as Zetaâs experiments. But Hot Rod hasnât, to his knowledge, encountered one since Nyon. Until Deadlock.Â
All at once, he decides that heâs sick of this. Heâs sick of this planet and this battle and this war and everything, everything that led him here. He isnât going to call a team.Â
He uses his foot to flip Deadlock over so that he can see his face and whether or not heâs holding a gun. From the scent, he can tell that Deadlock doesnât have enough energy to do anything like walk, but thereâs a strong chance heâs perfectly capable of pulling a trigger.Â
Heâs unarmed, though, and instead of a gun, Hot Rod finds himself staring into barely-lit but perfectly conscious optics.Â
He secures his own weapon to his side and kneels next to Deadlock. Deadlock follows the motion with his optics, moving his neck just enough to track Hot Rod. He doesnât speak, and more interestingly, doesnât snarl at him. His frame is littered with dents and scrapes and cracks, but itâs clean of energon; Deadlock had probably made it this far in a battle like this one by licking the energon splattered onto his frame from the Autobots he cut down.Â
Hot Rod takes a careful look around, knowing full well that if anyone sees whatâs about to happen heâll be rightfully accused of treason. But even Deadlock doesnât deserve to be left like this, helpless and paralyzed in enemy territory. Maybe itâs Deadlockâs fault for becoming a Decepticon in the first place - most of Hot Rodâs teammates would say so, at least. But Hot Rodâs teammates arenât here right now, and Hot Rod remembers seeing lines of empties on the street, crowds of them at the Acroplex, and not having enough energon running through his own frame to help even one of them. But now, he has enough. Itâs more for those long-dead than for Deadlock that Hot Rod positions his wrist over Deadlockâs intake and says, âDrink.âÂ
âIâm not joining the Autobots.â Deadlockâs voice is a raspy whisper barely loud enough for Hot Rod to hear.Â
âI donât expect you to join the Autobots.âÂ
âThen why?âÂ
âBecause you need energon, and I have plenty.â
Hot Rod canât tell if Deadlock has run out of arguments or if heâs used up too much energy to be able to speak anymore. Deadlockâs motions are slow as he takes Hot Rodâs wrist between his teeth and uses his fangs to make two small punctures in the energon vein that runs through it.Â
âPlenty is big talk for someone with this kind of fuel pressure,â Deadlock says, his voice already sounding better, after a few seconds.Â
âYou complaining?â Hot Rod asks. As he says it he realizes with a pang that thatâs exactly what he said to empties in Nyon, all the dozens of times they said something similar to him.Â
Hot Rod glances around again to make sure no Autobots are nearby and then lets himself relax a little at having successfully gotten Deadlock to accept his help. Relaxing is a horrible idea, as it turns out, because the next motion from Deadlock is a startled twitch that Hot Rod feels both in his opened wrist, and in the hand that heâs placed on Deadlockâs finial.Â
He yanks that hand away as if Deadlockâs finial had been on fire. âSorry!âÂ
âYou donât have to stop,â Deadlock says, not looking anywhere near Hot Rod.
It probably canât make things worse, Hot Rod reasons, and it feels good to stroke along Deadlockâs finial, one of the only parts of him unmarred by the battle. He keeps up the motion until Deadlock stops drinking, licking at the wounds in the vein to seal them.Â
Then itâs Hot Rodâs turn to startle, because the next thing Deadlock does is kiss the inside of his wrist. Itâs less intimate than drinking his energon, obviously, but it doesnât feel that way, and Hot Rodâs spark whirs in a way that distracts him almost enough to forget where he is for a moment. Itâs the best gift Deadlock could have given him.Â
Deadlock steps away from Hot Rod as they both stand up.
âI hope we see each other again someday,â Hot Rod says, keeping his promise.
âYou shouldnât,â says Deadlock. He looks away, toward where the Decepticons have retreated.Â
âWell, I do,â Hot Rod says. After that, he turns around, knowing that Deadlock wonât dare to turn his back on Hot Rod first. He hears Deadlock leave, and he returns to his squad.
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hey with tr*mp abruptly announcing that theyâre ending the census count on september 30, much earlier than originally planned (source, dated August 4, 2020), itâs vitally important that you get your census response in immediately. the census is used to determine how many seats your state gets in the house of representatives and also helps allocate federal funding for schools, roads, hospitals, and fire departments (source 1) (source 2).Â
itâs just a brief questionnaire, but itâs one of the most important things you can do to help your community right now. hundreds of millions of dollars are on the line, and some states are already poised to lose multiple seats in the house because of low response rates (source). it only takes a couple minutes, so please, consider taking a break and filling it out now!Â
I think the Old Guard fandom needs to give serious consideration to the fact that while historical fics are great and amazing, it is also an entirely logical proposition that in whatever sci-fi future universe you favour, the Old Guard will be kicking around fighting for what they think is right with archaic but highly personal weapons. Star Trek? Sure. Vorkosigan Saga? Absolutely. Want Nile, ten thousand years on, to exchange sword tips with Gideon Nav? It checks out!Â
I think this would be particularly entertaining in the kind of sci-fi universe where everybody is like âwe only retain legendary tales of our mythological homeworld, Terraâ and the Old Guard is there to go âfirst of all, nobody called it-â