@fateviled - ❝ your strength has returned. but your weakness still remains. ❞ ( megatron @ optimus<3 )

“weakness,” repeated optimus, muddling the worth over in his mouth. when had simple empathy become a weakness to the mech whom he had once– who he still truly did– hold so close to spark?

where was his poet? where was his gladiator? where was the mech that he had once desired to bond his spark to his own? at what point during the war had the WARLORD killed the LOVER? or had a young, naive orion pax simply ignored the signs of danger until they stood before the senate while he listened to megatronus’ demands for the matrix. 

at one time, he could have suggested no better candidate to become prime… until that very moment where everything changed.

for a time, and he felt guilty for how much he had enjoyed that time of blissful ignorance until the lies had become too many, too obvious for him to accept, he believed himself orion pax once more. memories had clouded within his databanks which made him cling to the familiar– to his megatronus. so the other had taken him and orion had followed until he broke free, until jack was able to return him to himself. 

when he recharged, he dreamed of better worlds. optimus would have liked to say they disappeared only to start again after the return of the matrix, but that would be a lie. his sleep was plagued with fluxes of the very mech before, of losing the autobots he commanded and the humans they cared for in equal measure to dreams where he was still orion pax. there he could feel the soft touch of a mech who killed in the arena yet held his archivist as though he were made of crystal. of worlds where megatron realized the path he was turning down before the war had progressed four million long, arduous years that were littered with unspeakable acts. even now, awake and facing him, optimus could feel his touch, hear his whispered voice, and long for when they would have been half of one spark, talking about the freedom they would bring to their people. 

even now, optimus could forgive him, yes, even now…

 “there was such a time when you spoke of oppression and meant to destroy it,” optimus told him, voice cold, but spark torn within him, “now you preach PEACE THROUGH TYRANNY and i wonder how you cannot see it's one in the same.”

@fateviled - " you must be either very brave or very stupid to face me alone. " ( i came from ur multi to send this from megatron hehehe )

when the cybertronians had first made an appearance, anakin had heard fives say, ‘that’s a big clanker’. they didn’t even know the half of it at the time. now, staring up at megatron, leader of the robotic sleemos who called themselves decepticons, anakin wishes he had an ounce of self-preservation. he had watched this guy go toe to toe with others of his kind and come out without a scratch. 

well… none of them were the chosen one. 

anakin shrugged, smirking at megatron, “bit of both.” with that, he lunged forward. his lightsaber thrummed loudly next to his ear. 

the bigger they were, the harder they would fall. which meant that he was going for his legs. of  course, that ran the risk that he would get squished, but he was willing to take that chance. not that rex or anyone else wanted him to. but they would never understand. these were the hard choices anakin had to make to make sure everyone else survived. 

little did he know his thoughts could mirror the thoughts of a young idealist. DARKNESS always lingered in the brightest of souls. it haunted the most idealistic of dreams. its smog was covering the galaxy as the two fought, not caring how a clash might affect faith. there was a chessmaster already assured of his victory over the light. what did he care if his future champion fought a being over ten times his size?  

@fateviled gets an ot3 thing!

Parker has been bouncing off the walls practically all afternoon. They'd gotten Hardison out of the apartment on some errand with Sophie–– though what she had them doing was anybody's guess–– and had set to work. Parker loves any excuse to celebrate: holidays, birthdays, you name it. Eliot is quite the opposite, always preferring to set expectations low and avoid the stress, the heartache, the disappointment. But Parker's enthusiasm is infectious, and besides... it's their guy's birthday. No sense in not going all out. He'd probably never forgive them if they didn't.

And so, Eliot's got a whole big dinner set up (plus a birthday cake with big number candles, at Parker's insistence) and their favorite cat burglar is curling the ends of balloon ribbons. (They're everywhere, the balloons, and Eliot knows full well if they're up late enough, the other two will get him to inhale helium and say whatever they ask him to).

They'd picked up a new gaming laptop and gear for him as a gift; it all sits wrapped on the coffee table. Eliot had insisted they buy it fair and square from a small family owned electronics store, and when Parker had lifted an external mouse, he'd made her go back and buy it for real. Now the money they'd used? Yeah, you could call that stolen, sure, but they'd have to draw the line somewhere.

Hardison's key just starts to click in the lock and while Eliot's washing his hands in the kitchen sink, Parker is off like a rocket, barreling into the hacker's arms before he's even in the door.

"Happy Birthday, Alec!" Eliot hears her warble, and he can practically see little hearts popping up around her head as she pushes her cheek against his. The two men make eye contact over her shoulder and Eliot smiles, wiping his hands off with the dish towel.

"Happy Birthday, baby."

no memes but this inbox is my home now >:(((

         they had hoped to use her, to make her the tool they could not make of her hidden daughter. rey had been young, but so strong in the force, stronger than kaidea herself. the mother was a consolation prize when they could not find her daughter. so they had tried to break her, twist her, and they had failed. and so, the sith had shelved her, put her in stasis. she didn’t know who now revived her, picked up a scrap of metal to use as a weapon as the door opened. they’d allowed her time to recover from the hibernation sickness, but that didn’t mean she trusted them. 

          not until-- ‘ rey? ‘ the improvised weapon clattered to the ground, but otherwise, she remained frozen. the girl was older than the girl she had left on jakku, but the force didn’t lie. ‘ you are rey, aren’t you? ‘

@fateviled​ kaidea for rey!

@fateviled​ said: ❝  whatever you do, i shall stand with you, as i always have.  ❞ (from dominik<3)

song of achilles rp starters

Half of their regiment is missing, having marched north two days prior, leaving Nikolai in charge of those who remained. They were supposed to be back by now. Actually, they were supposed to be back six hours ago. There’s no reason they should be tardy, except if... 

Nikolai readjusts his pack and surveys the group. Every single one of them is tired and hungry and very much in need of a bath. They have a choice: Either march toward Ulensk, where they are due to make camp by sunset tomorrow, or rescue their brothers in arms. 

As I always have. Nikolai’s gaze locks with Dominik’s, almost as if no other opinion in the group matters. “We head north, lads. See how far we can go before sundown. We make camp wherever we end up.” 

@fateviled - ❛  i’m here fore you. today. tomorrow. every day for the rest of your life.  ❜ (from hera)

ezra's breath shook in his chest as he listened to hera. it felt like the day the ghost crew had come back for HIM. yet, now, it was just a moment so simple-- a late, sleepless night with ezra unable to sleep, plagued by both zeb's snoring and disappointing the crew who had taken him in.

hera had found him, curled up in the co-pilot's seat like a lolth-cat. ezra had tried to make himself small so no one would notice him. hera, checking on the ship's auto-pilot, had noticed him anyway. some plan.

he swallowed thickly, saliva doing nothing to parch his dry throat. it felt sticky yet arid, words caught there like it was flypaper. he finally managed a disgruntled scoff, though his voice nearly cracked as he spoke, "even if i mess up?"

ice seemed to travel through his veins. the face of master luminara unduli haunting his dreams. they couldn't save her-- she had already been gone. when it wasn't her, it was the grand inquisitor with his yellow eyes STALKING his every move. every where he went, ezra seemed to FAIL. how many times could he fail before hera's words rung hollow?

       *    ‘ it’s dangerous to go looking for the dead. ‘ ( from irene? 👉👈 )          ›          @fateviled​   ,   prompt   [ … ]   accepting

          if she even tries to reach for her , she'll make sure to leave bitemarks                          sink her teeth into pale skin until she feels tendons rip inbetween .   but for now , she closes her knuckles , tight , feeling nails threaten to tear the skin of her palms .   maybe , if she did , it'd help stifle down the anger , the rage , the vitriol …        ❝     you don't say.     ❞          these are the first words she's told devil clad in white since her entrance , spoken in a low-hiss   /   SPIT OUT BETWEEN CHAPPED , CRIMSON LIPS .   the first words she had ever spoken to her , now that she thought about it .

         she slides her eyes closed , inhales deeply  :       ❝     what is it to you , trent ?     ❞        an accusation dwells inside her voice , like she's done something personally to her , was putting her on trial when addison had always meant for the roles to be reversed , had done countless horrors for it .         ❝     do you plan on taking away more of my friends ?   if so , i can think of a hundred ways to make you change your mind .    ❞

@fateviled​ said:

i do know i don’t want anyone else to die. ( from inej ) 

THERE’S A PAUSE IN HELLHOUND’S TASK, hands working nimbly to disassemble one of her handguns where she sits on the rooftop. dark eyes flick to the silhouette crouched on a pipe running between the roofs. ❝ by anyone else, you mean your master. dirtyhands. yeah? ❞ you’re no less a hound than i, she wants to snarl out as well, but she holds her tongue. it’s too late at night for the full scope of her thorns. ❝ ... well. if it helps, you can stop fretting over that. he doesn’t fit my profile. ❞

@fateviled​​ sent:  ❛  things  aren’t  always  what  they  seem  in  this  place .  ❜ ( from hecate )

“i’m starting to understand the more father allows me to explore the underworld. do you have any advice for me, lady hecate? what is your experience here? what are somethings you’ve seen? if you don’t mind my asking.” 

“  if i tell you to leave me behind,  would you listen?  ” ( fives @ echo )

“no,” echo said, without hesitation, without even thinking. he cleared his throat a little, “rule number one. never leave a man behind.” the words came easy, a mantra that he had repeated time and again since the final days of their cadet-hood.

but it was more than that. 

fives was MORE. of five batch-mates, only two remained. he and fives had been closer with each other than with the rest of their batch. even if it had been fives who had strapped him with the name echo. names were important to fives in a way echo wasn’t sure he fully understood. but it didn’t make him any less loyal to his vod.

it didn’t mean that echo could afford to lose him like they had lost hevy, cutup, and droidbait. echo would see himself FALL before any true harm came to fives. not that he ever said that out loud. echoes repeated after all-- they did not speak with their own voice.

life had not been kind to any clone, but echo felt the searing weight of it all each day. a sadness had settled into his chest that was not inclined to leave him. yet, fives remained his SUNLIGHT, his pathway away from the storm clouds that followed him. they were vode, tight-knit and ever intertwined. at least, that was how echo chose to see it.

@fateviled ➤ {rex}

          being  who  he  was,    like  his  brothers,    meant  that  there  were  many  negative  aspects  in  life.      the  only  memorable  moments  of  his  had  begun  after  he’d  joined  the  war,    and  before  that…    there  was  only  kamino  and  their  facilities.    for  the  clones,    that  had  been  all  they  were  meant  to  need  —    not  lives  as  the  rest  of  the  galaxy  did,    but  the  purpose  and  the  fight.      truthfully,    rex  can’t  help  but  think  if  maybe  it  wouldn’t  be  easier  to  work  under  anyone  that  wasn’t  general  skywalker.    it  was  the  man’s  resolute  compassion  that  would  make  anyone  wonder  what  existed  beyond  purpose.    as  if  rex  had  already  been  reckless  before,    one  misstep  away  from  insubordination.    but  anakin  had  never  been  weary  of  that,    had  almost  encouraged  it  at  times.      

          that  easy  smile  comfortable  on  his  lips,    he  gives  a  gentle  tip  of  his  glass  to  the  other.      “happy  to  be  of  service,    general.”      and  he  is,    more  than  he  can  say.    except  that  truth  feels  too  heavy  on  his  chest,    so  instead  he  wears  a  grin,    eyes  twinkling  with  mirth  as  he  glances  towards  the  viewport.      “i  don’t  imagine  any  of  the  other  troopers  would  be  as  eager  to  assist  with  your  reports  as  i  am.”      nor  would  they  have  the  patience  to,    he  suspected.    but  this  was  just  one  more  thing  rex  didn’t  mind  if  it  meant  helping  anakin.

          looking  out  at  the  city  below  them  holds  nothing  for  rex,    gaze  scanning  the  familiarity  and  knowing  it  was  not  home  to  him.      the  concept  of  home  to  him  was  odd  one.    it  wasn’t  kamino,    isn’t  concord  dawn,    or  mandalore,      (could  a  home  be  a  person?    it  was  as  much  as  he  knew  of  one.)      but  it  certainly  wasn’t  coruscant.      unwilling  to  let  those  conflicting  feelings  overwhelm  him,    he  looks  back  towards  his  general.      that’s  no  better;    he  could  get  lost  in  observing  the  other  for  hours.      the  gentle  curving  of  his  hair  against  his  neck,    mouth  soft  when  it  shifts  with  his  words.      clearheaded,    rex  would  never  allow  himself  to  even  acknowledge  the  thought,    but  here…      he  can’t  help  but  dwell  on  the  way  the  other’s  lips  move  as  they  speak  his  name,    and  he  finds  himself  subconsciously  leaning  forward,    drawn  to  anakin  skywalker’s  gravity.      not  the  first  time,    no,    but  certainly  the  first  time  his  thoughts  derail;    stuck  on  the  thought  of  skywalker’s  lips.

          but  he’s  drunk,    not  stupid,    and  he  silently  shakes  his  head,    setting  his  drink  down  after  a  second.      anakin  was  his  commanding  officer.      they  were  at  war,    a  war  that  would  one  day  end,    and  give  his  general  the  chance  to  lead  the  life  he  wanted,    with  the  person  he  loved.      the  person  rex  knew  he  loved,    and  who  loved  him  back  as  fiercely  as  he  loved  her.

a snort escapes anakin with a rather undignified wrinkle of his nose. rex had made light of his, truthfully, very earnest comment, but it hardly mattered. LIGHT had taken root within his chest, blooming like a flower with bright, warm petals. anakin wasn’t hurt, just reveling in the truth. there were few others who would stay with him to help with flimsiwork of all things, even with the allure of drinks to go with them. 

sitting with rex, anakin felt like the jedi he should be. just as he did with padme. yet, spending time with his captain lacked the constant claw in the back of his head that reminded him that his marriage was secret. LOVING PADME COULD NEVER BE WRONG. he believed that with his whole heart… but he knew the draw of attachment would always cause him to stumble. there was nothing stopping him from enjoying rex. from totally centering himself in rex’s light. 

as he thought, he lifted his bottle to his lips, taking a drink. at the same time, he heard the tell-tale sound of rex setting down his drink. fluctuations danced about them in the force. anakin turned, looking to the clone to see if something had changed in such a short time. 

each clone was unique. rex was no exception. beyond blond hair, anakin knew rex by his shape. each clone had a trimmed chest with a thinner waist, but anakin knew all of rex’s lines, where his chest curved into his smaller waist, thinner than some clones and thicker than others. he knew rex’s arm muscles, each curve of them and their strength. even rex’s neck, how he might tilt or stretch it, alerted him to who he was looking at. anakin knew all of rex. 

HOW LONG COULD ONE STARE AT A PIECE OF ART BEFORE ADMIRATION BECAME WORSHIP? 

“you really are the best,” anakin told him, know there was still a hint of alcohol on his tongue, in his breath. he didn’t partake in drinking a lot, but he knew his walls came down when he did. perhaps that was why he didn’t. who knew what other secrets he might reveal to rex that no one else knew. two hands tugged on his heart, splitting it between telling rex EVERYTHING and telling rex NOTHING. how long could he keep the man who bathed him in light in the dark?

@fateviled​ asked: ❛  there  is  a  possibility  i  am  now  hallucinating .  ❜ ( medea t @ sam? )

       sam’s  eyebrows  flick  up  and  she  freezes. “whoa––  wait,  like  really?  do  you  want  some  water––  do  you  need  to  sit  down?”  probably  not  the  best  thing  to  bombard  medea  with  questions  if  she  is,  in  fact,  hallucinating,  but  sam  can’t  help  it;  she’s  a  worrier.  it's  especially  anxiety-producing  when  she  knows  how  intense  medea's  visions  can  be.

@fateviled​  asked:      ❝    honestly  i  can’t  sleep,    so  if  you  wanna  stay  up  with  me?    ❞  (elian  @  aurora  sorry,  already  failed  step  one)      /      staying  the  night  prompts.

          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐊  𝐀𝐓  the  door  isn’t  a  complete  surprise  —  aurora  can  hear  elian’s  mind  just  as  loud  as  callum’s  and  baz’s.  they’re  all  filled  with  so  much  conflict  and  pain,  and  she’s  the  unwilling  spectator,  try  as  she  might  to  block  the  noise  out.  elian’s  struggles  are  unlike  her  own,  but  still  she  can  relate,  a  displaced  child  with  powers  too  great  for  their  own  good.  she  can’t  imagine  what  it’s  like  to  learn  your  own  father  put  a  tracker  in  you,  but  she  isn’t  ignorant  to  problems  with  fathers  either,  at  least.  the  girl  opens  the  door  with  a  timid  smile,  still  apprehensive  around  all  members  of  the  mansion.      <  i  wasn’t  sleeping  either.  >      she  signs  back,  glancing  back  over  her  shoulder  at  the  bed.  sketchbook  still  open,  with  scattered  pencil  drawings  inside,  aurora  sighs  before  turning  back,  motioning  for  elian  to  come  in.  she  climbs  back  on  the  bed,  crawling  to  the  furthest  corner  from  him  without  even  realizing;      SHE  DOESN’T  LIKE  PEOPLE  NEAR  HER,  and  she  doesn’t  want  elian  to  touch  her,  though  she  hasn’t  given  him  the  chance  to  prove  his  hands  aren’t  evil  like  so  many  were  before.  it  feels  unnecessary  still,  considering  the  massive  bed  she’s  still  getting  used  to  puts  an  ocean  of  space  between  them.      (it’s  too  soft  to  sleep  on,  she  thinks:      when  used  to  concrete,  a  soft  bed  feels  as  if  it’s  swallowing  her  whole).      pulling  her  knees  against  her  chest,  aurora  looks  at  elian  again,  and  she  can  tell  he  feels  like  as  much  of  a  stranger  in  this  place  as  she  does.  she’s  not  ure  if  it  makes  her  feel  better  or  not.  waving  her  hand  to  get  his  attention  again,  she  begins  to  sign.      <  can  i  be  honest  with  you?  i  haven’t  really  seen  too  many  movies,  like  the  one  we  watched  a  few  nights  ago.  and  it  seems  impossible  to  find  a  place  to  start.  >      she  keeps  her  movements  slow  enough  so  elian  can  follow,  knowing  he’s  still  learning,  but  she  can’t  help  the  flush  of  embarrassment  she  feels  after  the  admission.  aurora  doubts  it  was  elian’s  intention  to  set  her  on  this  path,  the  movie  being  a  distraction  for  another  restless  night;      but  she  hasn’t  stopped  thinking  about  it.

          𝐀𝐍𝐃  𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄  𝐒𝐇𝐄  goes  exposing  her  naivety.      <  we  don’t  have  to  watch  any,  if  you  don’t  want.  we  could  just  talk.  or  sit  here.  >      her  hands  move  faster  now,  conveying  her  anxiety  far  more  than  she’d  like,  and  the  telepath  can’t  help  but  internally  groan  and  roll  her  eyes  at  herself.  the  last  thing  she  wants  is  more  looks  filled  with  PITY  AND  HEARTBREAK,  received  every  time  she  reveals  something  else  about  her  time  as  a  captive,  and  yet  she  is  the  one  digging  her  own  grave  since  she  can’t  keep  her  damn  hands  still,  thoughts  racing  just  as  fast.  biting  her  lip,  she  manages  an  awkward  smile,  before  continuing.      <  i’m  sorry,  i  really  don’t  know  how  to  do…  >      she  trails  off,  letting  out  a  pathetic  laugh,  dropping  her  head  against  her  knees.  great,  elian  is  going  to  think  she’s  an  idiot.      <  this.  any  of  it.  >      she  signs  without  looking  up,  only  peaking  up  after  she’s  finished,  still  trying  to  manage  the  shy  smile.  she’s  never  had  a  friend  —  sure,  she  had  them  in  elementary  school,  but  those  childhood  friendships  didn’t  exactly  stick  around  in  aurora’s  life  —  this  is  a  completely  new  experience,  SOMETHING  FAR  MORE  MEANINGFUL,  that  she  feels  like  she’s  messing  up  with  every  step.  finally,  she  rests  her  chin  against  her  knees,  wide  eyes  searching  elian’s  for  judgment  and  malice.      (she  finds  none,  not  that  she  expected  to  find  any  in  the  first  place).            <  i  think  i  make  better  company  than  baz,  at  least.  >      aurora  jokes,  another  soft  laugh  passing  her  lips.  the  other  man  had  a  good  heart,  one  she  could  tell  callum  saw  too,  but  he  spoke  without  thinking  sometimes,  letting  his  emotions  guide  him,  and  that  heart  had  been  broken  too  many  times  too  young.  aurora  is  just  an  awkward  mess;      it  has  to  be  at  least  a  little  more  bearable.      <  i’ll  shut  up,  i  promise.  >      elian  certainly  didn’t  come  for  her  nonverbal  babbling,  after  all.

          ‘ would it help if i were to swear not to bring anything back from the dead this time? ‘ understandably, she had taken somewhat of a sabbatical from her beloved egypt. nearly bringing about the end of the world did tend to make one long for the comfort of a warm fire and a nearly endless supply of tea. and, also understandably, she hadn’t even been back in the country for a single day before she caught sight of the medjay shadowing her. well, it wasn’t as if she had the greatest track record. ‘ or will i be escorted the entire time i’m here? ‘ 

@fateviled​ evy for ardeth!

@fateviled​ SC (wylan)

“you might as well ask.” 

with the way he stared. eyes curious and studious. it was some moments like that he reminded her achingly of her brother. lips pressed into a tight line as she deftly drew her knife across the stone, sharpening the edge and cleaning the blade till it shone with her reflection rather than carrying on the stain of crimson that sometimes dressed it. she knew kaz had left rumors swirl about her as much as they did him and for the most part it served to benefit them all. the spider. the wraith. but she knew that wylan might be one of the few brave enough to have the courage to voice it if he didn’t feel the need to ask permission. 

still, it was because of that semblance of familiarity that she spoke again softly. “i know you have questions about me. go on.”