#you’re getting the unfiltered 1:00 am thoughts

[whosthere54]

Something I didn’t mention before when talking about the Rael stream (I THINK) was just. Icarus talking to themself. I dunno if it was just cause there was another person there but they just. Say their thoughts out loud. I’d assume they always do that, one way to fill the odd silence-not-silence of the worldport. A way to organize their thoughts so their not just in their head the whole time, something we’ve seen just before in season 3.

Do u think they “talk” to the Sherbs? Not actually talking to them of course, but talking similar in a way we the chat watch/consume media? Just a person typing on a screen or saying something out loud in response to what they’re watching. Icarus wouldn’t be typing- just- What if they just pretend to give input/feedback into what they’re doing? I think sherb said before on here that they like to imagine Icarus yelling at the doors like people do watching sports- but also that with like talking to your TV. If something happens you’ll go like “why would you do that!” Or “[insert item here] was right there you idiot” “now you’re dead. Well who’s fault is that [character]!” Atleast I do that. I think It’s just the same thing they do in the worldport.

I just think it’s silly.

[noelletronics]

Welcome Home, General (Hetalia Alfred F. Jones x Reader)

(This is NSFW! MDNI!)

(cw: Breeding, Marathon sex, really REALLY needy Alfred, he just came home from a mission in the military and he is STARVING for pussy, established relationship)

It’s just past 1:00 AM when the door unlocks. No one hears it, not even you. Because you’re fast asleep on the couch, wrapped in a throw blanket, face softened in the pale glow of the paused movie on your TV. A half-finished mug of tea sits cold on the coffee table. The room smells like vanilla and home. 

And Alfred? Alfred’s standing in the doorway, duffel bag at his feet, breath gone. You weren’t supposed to know he was coming home tonight. He was supposed to arrive in the morning, let you know he landed. Walk through the door with flowers and some dumb grin like everything was normal.

But now, seeing you there like this… peaceful, curled up in one of his old t-shirts, your bare legs tangled in the blanket, mouth slightly parted? He snaps. He doesn’t call your name. Doesn’t clear his throat.

He drops the bag. Kicks the door shut. And stalks toward you like a man possessed. You stir slightly as his heavy boots thud against the floor, but it isn’t until he’s yanking the blanket off your body that your eyes flutter open.

“Alfie…?”

He’s already on you. His hands are everywhere. Dragging your thighs apart, grabbing your hips, hauling you upward until you’re seated, dazed, against the couch cushions. You barely have time to gasp before his mouth is on yours. Hot. Open. Claiming. No “I missed you.” No “I’m home.”

Just raw, unfiltered need.

“Couldn’t wait,” he growls against your lips. “Fuck… couldn’t fucking wait another second.”

He tears your panties down with one hand, already rutting against you, still mostly clothed. Tactical pants half-unzipped, belt clinking loose, groaning when he feels how ready you are beneath him.

“You were waiting for me. Always so warm for me, baby… fuck.”

“Alfred, I-ah-!”

You try to speak, but he’s already sliding into you in one hard, deep thrust, and you swear you see stars. You clutch at his shirt, his hair, whatever you can grab as he starts moving without hesitation. Fast, rough, possessive. Each snap of his hips slams into you like he’s trying to bury months of longing in your skin. His forehead drops to yours, sweat dripping, voice wrecked.

“Thought about this every fucking night… This pretty little cunt. My girl. My home. You’re mine.”

Your moans echo through the dark, your back arching as he thrusts harder. Deeper .His hands gripping your thighs to keep you exactly where he needs you. The couch creaks violently. The TV light flickers behind you. And all you feel is him. Filling you. Ruining you. Loving you in the only language his body knows right now: desperation. You tighten around him, gasping his name, and he snarls, low and dangerous.

“You gonna come for me already? Huh, baby? Been so good while I was gone. Don’t hold back now. Fucking give it to me.”

And when you do - shuddering, crying out his name, nails dragging down his back - he loses it. His mouth crashes to yours in a bruising kiss, hips slamming deep as he spills inside you with a broken growl, burying his whole body against yours like he wants to disappear into you entirely.

Your limbs are still tangled with his on the couch.

The sweat hasn’t dried. His cum is still dripping from between your thighs, your body thrumming with the aftershocks of round one.

But Alfred’s not done. He stares down at you like he’s been starving for months. and one taste wasn’t enough. Not even close.

“Get in the shower,” he mutters, voice gravel, thumb brushing over the bruise he left on your hip. You blink, still breathless.

“Alfie…?”

“Now.”

He stands. Drags you up with him. Doesn’t even give you time to fully catch your balance before he's walking you backwards into the bathroom, naked, wrecked, and already throbbing between your legs again. The lights stay off. 

Steam curls around you the moment he turns the water on, pressing your back to the cold tile while the heat builds in the air and in his eyes. He looks down at you like he doesn’t trust himself to speak. Then-

He grabs your jaw, tilts your face up, and kisses you hard.

“One round wasn’t enough,” he groans into your mouth. “I didn’t get my fill.”

You gasp as he drops to his knees in the steam. He spreads your legs with his shoulders. Presses you into the wall like an offering. Then he eats you. Desperate. Loud. Filthy. Tongue sliding through your slit, licking up his own cum like he wants it back. Groaning like it’s not enough to have been inside you. He needs you screaming his name again.

“Still so wet,” he pants. “Still fucking mine.”

You fist his hair, back arching, thighs shaking, but before you can even finish, before the orgasm can leave your lips, he’s standing again. And he’s already lining himself up. You try to speak-

“Condom-”

“No.”

He pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your thigh, hiking it up around his waist.

“I’m going in raw,” he growls. “You think I came home to feel less of you?”

You barely manage to moan before he thrusts into you again, fully, without pause. You cry out, the tile scraping your spine, the water pounding down around you as his hips slam into you, skin to skin, no barrier this time.

“I need to come inside you for real,” he grits out, pounding into you. “Need it deep. Need to fucking breed you, baby.”

“Alfred… fuck-!”

“I wanna ruin you for anyone else. You get that?” His teeth scrape your neck. “Wanna leave you leaking for days. Wanna fill you up so bad you feel me every time you move.”

You’re barely hanging on, moaning into the steam, trembling as he drives into you relentlessly. No tenderness, just pure need and possession. His dog tags slap against your chest, water cascading off his back, your fingers locked in his wet hair, both of you slipping further into something primal.

“You gonna take all of me again?” he groans.

“Gonna let me come inside you raw and keep it this time?”

“Yes! Yes, Alfred… please…”

And he slams in deep, grinding, staying there as he bursts, gasping curses into your neck, biting down hard as your second orgasm hits like a tidal wave, clenching around him and dragging every last drop from his body. You both collapse, sliding slowly down the wall, his arms holding you in place as water washes over your tangled, shaking bodies. His forehead presses to yours.

“That wasn’t even close to enough.”

You smile, ruined and glowing.

“Then don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. Your back is pressed to the steamy tile, your skin raw and your thighs trembling. You’ve already come - twice? Three times? You’ve lost count. Your legs barely work. But Alfred isn’t slowing down. He’s still hard, inside you. Still holding your hips in a bruising grip, his cock sliding deep again and again, the sound of wet, filthy skin-on-skin echoing beneath the rush of the shower. Your fingers claw into his slick shoulders, trying to anchor yourself.

“Alfie… please! I can’t…”

He cuts you off with a low growl.

“Yes, you fucking can.”

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, not to comfort — but to keep you still as he leans in and murmurs filth against your mouth.

“Matter of fact,” he pants, voice hoarse and twisted with heat, “We’re not sleeping tonight. Not till I’m sure. Not till it takes. Not till I know I’ve got my baby in you.”

Your body jolts, a mix of fear and pure molten want cascading down your spine.

“A-Alfred…”

He thrusts deeper, tilting your hips just right, hitting the spot that makes you cry out… That makes your knees buckle, and his expression turns feral.

“You feel that?” he growls. “That’s where it needs to go. That’s where I’m gonna keep pumping it in. Again. And again. Until this tight little cunt does its job and takes all of me.”

You're gasping. Breathless, trembling, dripping, but clinging to him.

“You're shaking,” he breathes against your ear, lips curling.

“Is that fear, baby? Or excitement?”

You can’t even answer. Your voice is gone. Only broken moans and whispered pleads and the sound of him ruining you.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to choose. You’re gonna give it to me anyway. Even if you cry. Even if you scream.”

He bites down gently on your shoulder. And he fucks you harder.

You can’t stop the way your body responds. The way you arch into it, into him, sobbing his name, your walls fluttering around his cock like you’re begging for it.

“That’s it,” he hisses. “That’s my girl. You’re made for this. For me.”

His fingers move to your stomach, splayed across the soft skin just below your navel.

“Right here,” he groans. “You’re gonna swell with me. Gonna carry proof of what we did tonight. And every time you look in the mirror, you’ll remember who fucking owns you.”

You come again.

It’s not graceful. It’s not quiet. It’s wild and wet and primal, body convulsing around him as he groans deep in his chest.

“Fuck… Gonna fill you again …Every last drop.”

And he does. Presses in deep, holds you tight, and unloads like he’s branding you with it. You’re barely conscious by the time he kisses you again - all tongue, no gentleness. And then he whispers against your lips:

“One more time, baby. Still not done. Not till I know it took.”

And he lifts your leg again. Still hard. Still desperate. Still not finished with you.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 9: Friable

7:45 in the morning.

Each and every day, Esredes' alarm went off. He was not one with long startup lag- within a minute, he was always up and shutting his alarm off, dragging himself to the bathroom.

Brush your teeth, comb your hair back into those peculiar spikes, splash some water on your face- yes, perfect. And next came the closet, where Esredes mostly changed into the same repetition of outfits each day- all this time, and still he had not bothered to add much new.

Too much attention.

All this took ten minutes at most, and then he was downstairs. A quick breakfast came and went with a dose of orange juice, and he was putting on Heilyn's coat made for him like he did every morning, followed by the trusty messenger bag and sword. Long past were moments like the sheer embarrassment of shutting down on his floor or at his desk entirely- there was no time for suck weakness anymore.

The brisk and cold air of Foundation greeted Esredes as always, and he set out on the usual route to the Pillars. It was nice and quiet on his street, then it soon passed into the main streets of Foundation. Here and there on the way to work, there were sometimes eyes, stares in his direction, some which he noticed and some which he did not- but today he passed them by before his mind could begin to wander.

Ferrant's office space was always a safe escape from the outside world when he arrived- all of the man's office staff was friendly, Heilyn was the raggy-haired piece of shit he always was, and he could greet everyone and get to his office to write papers in peace. But today, Ferrant had a House of Lords person for him to go and talk to on his behalf, so Esredes didn't get to settle in to his office just yet, instead going back out the Pillars and right into another Lords' office.

"Good morning," Esredes said in his usual polite political work voice as he pushed his way into the office. Every time he went to another Lords' office, it hit him just how humble Ferrant was- and how not humble his former noble self was.

The older Elezen man looked up from his desk at Esredes with a calm indifference. "Good morning," he repeated back. "You're Durand's messenger, correct?"

"Correct," Esredes said, coming in and taking a seat, smoothing out the papers in his hands on the desk. "Lord Ferrant sends his regards he is too busy to see you in person as of now, but expect a letter within the next couple weeks for a request for a lunch appointment. Now, here is the papers he requested of you to look over," Esredes turned them around on the desk and slid them forward to the man, then set his hands clasped in his lap as he watched the man read it over with a careful, scrunched up look on his face.

It took him a long moment before he finally spoke. "...I see." He started with. "And tell me, is Lord Ferrant aware of the greater implications a proposal like this would have on the city?"

"It depends on what you mean by that," Esredes said. "But I like to believe he does know, yes. No proposal of his is without careful consideration, after all."

"The way I see it, it's exactly proposals like this which threaten the stability of the public." He put the papers down, shut his eyes, and let out a long sigh. "Is Lord Ferrant not aware how dangerous it is already for our knights most holy to deal with the remnants of Nidhogg's horde? The system in place is perfectly fine for dealing with the heretics who defected to that monster."

"It's not exactly about that," Esredes said. "It's about those who were kidnapped and forced into his ranks, you see, when he writes prisoner of-"

"The Temple Knights are already at risk of being mauled and turned by the knights who get to them." The Lord said. "You cannot ask them to change their procedures without putting countless lives at risk." He smiled at Esredes. "Send Lord Ferrant my regards, but I am not interested in more of this proposal of his. Now, what else does he have to speak of?"

Esredes forced a smile back. "Very well," he said as he took the papers back into his hands. "Then I believe we can cut right to the next proposal on the House floor..."

When he exited that building and went back out into the streets, Esredes let out a sigh and looked over the papers in his hands. Heilyn and himself had been working on that one for so many weeks now, and this was the fifth test subject it had failed without any room for further conversation. How many more rewrites did they need to make this worth any consideration?

Lunch hour was already approaching, and so Esredes decided to make his way down towards the Crozier. He was near enough that he could pick something up and bring it back to the office, and then he'd have just enough time to report the results and get his work in order before his hour break for a client coming in. It was already getting crowded, however, so Esredes opted to pick a stall with a decent line just to save time instead of his usual go tos. The merchant was selling little meat pies that overwhelmed Esredes' nostrils even from this distance back, and it was rare Esredes wasn't in the mood for them. "Hi," he said with a smile when it was his turn in line, taking the gil out from his pouch. "Two, please." He set it on the counter and slid it over.

The Hyur man gave him a peculiar stare as he did so, and Esredes had to keep his smile from faltering. "Sorry, I think it's best you look elsewhere. Stock's limited, and my usual customers show up around now."

Esredes blinked a couple times, staring back at the man before glancing down at his gil and slowly taking it back in his hand. How the hell did this random merchant even know? "Very well, my apologies for the inconvenience." Esredes replied, and off he did as he did best and disappeared into the crowd.

He ended up with a smoked Dodo sandwich instead, carrying it in a box in his hand as he made his way out of the Crozier and back towards the office. Yet as he passed by one tall and light individual on the street, he did a double take and stopped, looking back with a faint smile of recognition. "Good afternoon, Squire of the Axe." He called to the young man, recognizing one of the individuals from the Fourth Temple Knight Company he sort of tolerated, sort of didn't. While others had revealed his real name to him, he still felt the man would scorn him if he tried using it yet. "Hope you're having a decent one. Take care."

Gerivien turned around and stared at Esredes with a look Esredes recognized well out of the man by now- that of burning, unfiltered hatred. It couldn't decide consistently if it wanted to be there or soften on any given interaction, and his mouth twitched downwards.

"Mind yer fuckin' business." Gerivien said, and turned on and kept right on walking with that.

"Until another time!" Esredes called his way with a smirk before moving on. Ah, Gerivien was a hot and cold one- some days he got that, other days the man revealed his soft side he denied existing and something more interesting happened- but today he didn't have time for an interesting moment, so take his opportunity to annoy the Squire it was.

Esredes had lunch alone in his office to make up for the extended length of time that Lord had spent talking about his thoughts on the latest House proposal, munching away on the dodo sandwich while finishing up a paper. Then as 12:55 approached, he stood up and moved to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water and then navigating to the Blue Room instead, setting it down on the side table and opening a drawer to take out his binder and fake pair of glasses, slipping the glasses on and settling into his chair. The 1:00 slot was a vague name of 'Red' simply written down on the sheet, and Esredes wasn't sure who this person was at all, but a new client was always kind of exciting nonetheless. He settled in, put a bright smile on his face for the client's entry- and in came a face he did not in fact, not recognize.

Ivarault Vairemont.

He had never spoken to the man personally, but he knew him well, or so he thought- because the man had started a fight most times he saw him, including one with a dear friend of his, and he knew for a fact this man literally wanted to kill him. He was that sort of ex-Dragoon, the kind who wanted his eliminated and nothing more.

Esredes' bright smile dropped in an instant. His free hand went to his pocket, the one that kept the airborne, powder based sleeping agent in a little vial just in case. "What... what are you doing here."

Suddenly, Esredes realized just how much he took Pyralis' mediocre presence for granted.

Though the man had relatively behaved himself for a change, Esredes left that session feeling drained nonetheless. Back to work it was, until the hour of 5:00 hit.

There he was to switch out of his civilian mode and back into what lurked beneath the surface. He left work, went home, changed into his armor he wore into battles as a harrier, and slipped on his helmet as he departed for the Central Highlands. He had a meeting with an interested party about the ways of Iceheart's people, and he meant to represent his people well.

At least, that's what he planned to do. Instead, his tale of Iceheart's struggles, mixed with those of his own and that of the movement all together, was met with an angry response from the masked individual.

"And was it heroic when you allowed the wyverns into the city?" The lady said. "When you slaughtered those people merely delivering goods to their destination?"

Esredes could do nothing but blink. "No." He said. "It wasn't. I never tried to imply it was."

"There is nothing heroic about your people, as you so call them." The lady continued on, taking a step closer to him. "You are no better than the knights you keep bringing up. You spilled blood to summon a primal, and what did it accomplish? Nothing."

"It accomplished the end of the goddamn war!" Esredes retorted back, taking a step forward and curling up his fists. "If she hadn't stopped that Garlean ship, the Archbishop would have plunged the land into chaos. You and all of those pathetic Warriors owe her for your continued peaceful existence, but no, you can't even be bothered to acknowledge that much!"

The lady narrowed her eyes at him with a look of pure disgust. "You will never be anything but a monster," she said, and then she began to walk away.

Well, that was the second time this year one of these people pretending to hear the other side had turned sour when they heard exactly that. Lovely. Esredes let out a sigh and waited for her to be far enough away, then transformed and flew away.

He found himself at a bar later on in the night, 8:30. It had been a day, and he needed to grab a bottle or two before he went home. Content was he to mind his own business, but soon himself approached by a man, a specific type of man he knew the second he put his eyes on. They always had some kind of shit eating grin on their face and were only there to take an unwanted and creepy interest in you.

"What are you so down about?" The man asked about three lines into the conversation.

"I'm Ishgardian."

The man chuckled to that. "That you might, but it's no reason to have such a stick up your arse, yes? Why don't you loosen up a little and maybe you wouldn't seem so down?"

Esredes wanted to sigh all the way down into Witchdrop and then some. "I think I know what I'm doing, thank you. Please feel free to bother someone more interesting."

"Whatever you say, asshole." The man remarked, and as he turned to leave he pushed Esredes right in the abdomen with one hand, causing him to stumble back against the table and spill part of his drink onto his face. A few people in the bar laughed at the sight.

Without a word, Esredes turned and left the bar in a hurry.

When he collapsed into bed that night at 1:34 AM, he felt like he weighed a thousand pounds, yet he stretched his arms out on the bed and shut his eyes, releasing a long breath.

You did it, he told himself. You made it through the day. Another one down, gods know many left.

A lot of emotions swirled up within him, but what went up must come down. Esredes shoved them all back down to the bottom, and stared at the ceiling in complete apathy until he fell asleep.

He was stronger than the world. Other people could break and fracture, but he would remain here, just as he was.

There was no time today for being delicate and picking himself up. Tomorrow, maybe, but for now he was off to dreamland.

-- @heartofthefury / @thecalmnessandthestorms Ferrant/Heilyn

Lori for Gerivien Arius for Ivarault @1emon-vii for Pyralis

[m4-05spersonalblog]

The M4 siblings fanfiction

Chapter 1: In the name of journalism

It had only been a day since M4 discovered the story, a republic senator for a mining colony in the mid-rim and imperial captain stationed near the remains of Ziost both turn up dead at the exact same time, and security footage reveals it as the culprit, though M4 had killed plenty of people by now, some more notorious and a lot more powerful than a senator and captain, so what’s 2 more kills under it’s designation after all? The reporter who first made the story public fell to the floor of his office, set ablaze, as he looked up, paralyzed with the utmost fear of the one responsible, in front of him stood M4-05 and it’s faithful akk dog partner, Murjr, M4 grabs the man by the collar, lifting him off the ground as the droid places it’s wristblade to his neck, speaking to him in a tone of pure anger “I don’t appreciate slander, especially slander that puts the few people in the galaxy I have left at risk, now tell me what do you know about those imposters.” The reporter was speechless, as M4 pressed it’s blade further against his neck he began to fumble for words, “I- I- was told that the one who killed the senator worked for sith intelligence, I just thought it was you collecting on those bounties you do when your owner doesn’t need you shoving people who only want to give the public the truth aside!” In a sudden burst of emotion, M4 pins the reporter against the wall, slowly causing blood to drip from the man’s neck, if he didn’t talk quick enough he would surely die, but before he could try and save his own life M4 gets in the first word “Here’s a story for you to publish. I. Am. Nobodies. Property!” M4 continuously slammed the reporter against the wall before cutting his throat entirely, stepping back and allowing Murjr to get some bites in of the man, though the akk dog quickly changes he spits out what was bitten off quickly. The two partners walk out of the reporter’s house before M4 sets off a disintegration bomb inside, wiping the evidence from the building as it slowly crumbled down a flaming mess, if there was an imperial copy of M4, then there was bound to be a republic one as well, but only 2 questions remained in M4’s metal head, how to destroy them and make sure it’s not copied again.

Chapter 2: Enter “Vanguard”

Cheers roar out from a bar on the upper levels of coruscant as a group of soldiers celebrate a recent victorious campaign, talking about sticking it to the imperials and what-not, with other patrons of the bar celebrating as patriots alongside their protectors, better known as ‘Sigma Squad’. As the celebrations were in full swing the bar doors open and a droid with claw-like feet, a built-in jetpack and face plating walks in and up to sigma squad, prompting more cheers from the soldiers. The orange and white droid looks at the squad before introducing itself, it’s voice contained that of a proud republic accent as it gives a salute, “M4-06, code name: vanguard, the first of the 06 assault series developed by the SIS for usage by special operations squads, having completed my testing I have been transferred to act as a member of sigma squad, effective immediately.” The hulking sigma squad commander chuckles and pats the droid’s shoulder “Don’t worry vanguard, we knew you were coming, welcome to the squad! I was told you had our next mission for us, but that can wait, come, join the party!” The squad and bar patrons partied on until dark and they got kicked out by the barkeep. Back at the republic command centre, the squad, once more suited up in armour looked eagerly at their newest addition to relay their next mission to them, the droid robotically looks at the squad before projecting a holo-image of 2 droids that looked near-identical to it. “These are M4-05 and M4-07, M4-05 is the droid I am based off, a dangerous mercenary and republic defector, M4-07 is my sibling who was stolen and modified by sith intelligence during the early stages of our development, command has decided it is up to us to destroy them, for the republic.” The commander walks up next to Vanguard and gives some final words “I’ll requisition the gear we need ASAP, we leave at 06:00 in the morning, we have our orders, sigma squad, move out!” The squad walk out as the commander turns to Vanguard and simply directs the droid to follow him to requisition the gear needed.

Chapter 3: Preparations After a sudden jump to hyperspace M4 forces open a security crate, laying it’s optics on the deadly contents. “Looks like Azutek came through” M4 plainly stated as it picked out the disruptor rifle, sealing the rest of the contents back in the case before putting it in a smuggling compartment “Best keep those unarmed unless I have to use them” the droid simply mutters to itself, the silence aboard the tenacity was beginning to cause M4 to go mad again, without distraction M4 only did what it had ever known, calculate. Every movement, every second, every destination and every purpose had to be flawless, if not, go back to the start and do it all again until it’s right. This feeling of loneliness, even if it was to keep one of the few people in the galaxy M4 cared about safe, was something it simply couldn’t push back forever, going so far as to turn off it’s face lights and removing it’s faceplates just so it could practice everything with it’s own, unfiltered optics, M4 wanted every advantage possible, even if that meant pushing it’s only body built for combat to the absolute limit. As time went on M4 slowed down it’s combat calculations and began thinking more straightforward, it had an idea of a plan, but nothing specific, all it knew was to lure it’s copies to a location and destroy them both at the same time, what remained was, how and where? It needed an unrealistic amount of luck to even get the 2 to the same location and luck wasn’t logical, M4 pondered about this for some time, talking to itself in it’s lonely state “Luck… luck, there is not a possible way to calculate such a thing or even obtain it, to a point, luck can be considered something a person is born with, the concept of luck favors those incredibly stupid for they would not survive without some form of intervention… ugh” M4 waves it’s head around in annoyance realizing that out of the statistical odds of it, it knew one of the luckiest idiots in the entire galaxy, and it owed the idiot a favour, how joyous this plan was going to be, doing so it sets course and turns back around to a hub-zone of loot, rumors and the one place the pirate known only as “Flip” could likely be found, Nar Shaddaa.

Chapter 4: The imposter’s imposter

“Dread it, run from it, death arrives all the same, or rather, it simply has more intelligence than your organic brain can comprehend.” A sly, robotic, imperial accent matched with black paint and armouring met only with the laughter of an idiot about to start wallowing in his own blood, the masked fool laughs “You know, you would make a great actor, plus you’d be doing a better job than you are right now.” The masked idiot gets his head slammed into a wall of Nar shaddaa for this, the claw-like metal hand creating an ear-piercing scratching noise as the imperial assassin, M4-07, runs it’s hand down to Flip’s neck, “I’ll give you credit, fool, you’re braver than most targets who’ve had the pleasure of seeing my face, you lack their fear, but a sith agent without fear to feed on is a vicious beast to tangle with.” Flip just laughs at the sadistic droid “Wow, you really don’t get the message huh? I already told you where your big bro was heading, someplace called ‘the crater’ ominous I know, but hey, there are hundreds of craters in the galaxy, which one do you go to, let me, help you, so I can help myself keep living?” 07 let’s go of Flip’s head, letting him drop to the ground like a sack of hammers, only for the idiot to get back up on his feet and stretch as if he hadn’t just had his ass whooped for the 17th time this week. “Like I said, I don’t know where ‘the crater’ is but I do know a place that’d be easy to kill an organic for your brother, it’s this completely inhospitable area on Tatooine, not even moisture farmers can use it, plus it drives people insane, now I don’t know a huge amount of it’s backstory but if my luck is anything to go off, I reckon it has a base there, no place an organic can approach without going insane? Any droid would want to go there!” 07 looks at Flip before speaking again as it raises a blaster to Flip’s face “Your service to the empire will be rewarded painlessly” Though before the droid could even pull the trigger Flip rolls to the other side of the room before grabbing his dropped rifle and jumping out of the closed window and falling into the abyss below, all the way down yelling “At your service!” 07 backs away before dropping a thermal detonator in Flip’s hotel room, even if he did survive the fall, he didn’t have anywhere to sleep anymore…

Of course anybody who knows Flip, knows he can survive worse than a big fall, getting caught in a red speeder, driven by M4 of all droids before zooming off to the spaceport, M4 shook it’s head as Flip relayed the details to it, now it owed the fool two favours.

Chapter 5: “Hello old friend”

M4 stood in front of a burnt and decaying pile of logs in the vast and harsh desert night of Tatooine, so much had happened since M4’s first visit here and everything personal always caused it to end up here, except with Grillrilot, but that wasn’t an opportunity it would’ve got a second shot at. Simply staring at the wood as it’s cloak flew in the wind the droid noticed something it hadn’t noticed last time it was here, a single holoprojector that had somehow survived the bonfire, curiously M4 picks it up and wipes some ash off it before placing it down at it’s feet and pressing play on it. The projector boots into life as a man clad in red armour, with red hair and the worst shaving job in the galaxy, appeared, taking the droid back, the man simply smiles at looks at M4, speaking in a typical mandalorian accent, with a hint of balmorran. “If you’re finding this, it means this… disorder of mine has got the best of me and I was proven killable, if so, I commend the warrior who managed to kill me and rid the galaxy of the voice in my head, but chances also are you found this looking for some wisdom from a strong member of clan Stalos, who defeated the republic’s own mandalorian killer, twice and fought alongside some of the best warriors in the galaxy, well bit of some bad news, whatever you might know about my story might be a little lost in translation, because… Well a lot of the stories attributed to me are only half true, I never faced a single enemy down alone, there was always someone else by my side in a fight, whether that be aiding me through a commlink, on the field of battle, or just when I needed someone to talk too, whether it’s still around by the time this message is played back I don’t know… we sort of, got into a fight and well… we went our separate ways I suppose. So maybe I do have some wisdom after all, whether they are mando’ade or not, anyone who is willing to stand by you through everything the galaxy throws at you is a true vod, whether they consider themselves mandalorian or not, for me that person was a droid, funny I know, who’d have thought a mandalorian and a droid would make such a good team, the droid in question was called M4-05, heh… We started out hating each other, and I mean hated each other, all we both wanted to do was get off tatooine and go our separate ways then, but things obviously changed, M4 was more than a machine, more so than I think even it realised, it was a friend to so many people, sure it could be a bit cynical at times, M4 stuck around when nobody else did… and I let the voice in my head throw that away, but M4’s tough, built of some of the strongest stuff in the galaxy, always had a plan for everything, it’s got a plan to outlive the end of the universe itself I bet, dunno if it’ll stick with artix or move on to work with someone else, what matters is that it finds a place in the galaxy… where was I? Oh yeah, moral of the story and stuff… a brother is more than your fellow mando’ade or your blood, a brother is someone who believes and doesn’t give up, someone you can be transparent with, someone who sticks by your side just because it’s you. So, to whoever may be seeing this recording, do this mad mando a favour, just one, find M4 if you can, tell it, no, tell my brother I’m sorry, tell him that Robert ‘Anarch’ Artix-Stalos was wrong, that I wish things could’ve turned out better, got a kid on the way and everything as well, coulda used a babysitter every now and again…” The long and drawn out recording finally stops and M4 looks down at the recording, before removing it’s faceplating to look at the projector before picking it up and look at it with it’s two, basic optics before speaking back to the lifeless projector, in a sad and defeated tone “I wish I had a plan for this… I really do, but given your combat success, perhaps the best plan isn’t having one at all… and apology accepted, ‘brother’.” The droid places it’s plates back on before walking off further into the desert, the last remains of it’s first true friend in hand.

Chapter 6: The crater (dun dun duuun!)

M4-07 stood in a desolate, completely black area of Tatooine, amongst what appear to be the charred remains of a sand person camp, the only thing not charred in the area was a single cliff face, with no cracks or rocks to use to climb, only 07, no life, no back-up, yet impossible to ambush… Then at the top of the cliff stood a group of heavily armed republic soldiers as none other than M4-06 jettisoned down to meet 07 in the optics, as it yells in declaration “M4-07, you are found guilty of working as an agent of sith intelligence, surrender now and you will be treated fairly!” 07 just looks at the soldier droid before chuckling “M4-06 and sigma squad then? I don’t know what your game is but I doubt you’ll find your ultimate goal here, allow me to explain the purpose of our creation, we were built to anger the same droid, to lure it out of hiding and destroy it, to our respective factions we are expendable, I am here of my own initiative to prove otherwise, your being here benefits only me, not you and certainly not our target.” 06 stands proudly in defiance “If my purpose is to be expendable in the fight for freedom then so be it!” it’s imperial brethren only shakes it’s head in disapproval “A patriot to the end eh? Well I suppose I can sympathise to a degree, my programming grants me free thought in nearly every aspect, other than attempts to betray my empire.” 06, clearly tired with 07’s ego simply raises it’s rifle to the droid “Enough talk, either you come silently, or in pieces! And once we’re done with you, we’ll deal with 05 too!”

In response 07 raises it’s blaster firing at 06 with no hesitation, 06 responds by firing back, both droids absorbing and ricocheting the shots with their armouring, as the 2 scurry for cover as 06 yells into it’s comms “Commander, your assistance would be appreciated right about now!” 06 actually got a response, but not from the person it was expecting, as a cold, robotic voice speaks through the commlink to 06 “Not so fast, inferior. And don’t think about adjusting your aim, one move towards me and the blood of your organic masters is on your copied hands.” 06 continues to engage 07 as it speaks back through the comms as it briefly looks up to spot a dot of red and black atop the cliff where sigma squad has seemingly disappeared. “So the traitor shows themself, you will surrender yourself to republic custody for trial in front of the galactic senate and leave that of sigma squad alone.” The patriot droid’s demands are met with a sinister and annoyed tone “I don’t know if you’ve ever been programmed to deal with a hostage situation before, so allow me to give you some tips, do not demand the exact opposite of what the hostage-taker wants.” for a second a blaster shot echos from the cliff before a human body is thrown off and hits the ground with an unbearable cracking sound. “For every wrong move you make, is another republic death on your hands, can your limited mind comprehend that?” Atop the cliff M4 turns it’s head to the entire unconscious sigma squad as it waves the commander’s helmet over them and watches the 2 droids below fight each other before speaking into the helmet “Now, my demands are simple, destroy M4-07, then yourself.” As yet more bolts bounce off 06’s armour it simply gives a simple response “No can do, my duty is to serve the republic, not you!” M4 simply sighs back in response, before something atop the cliff goes boom and M4 descends down to the ground, causing the two copies to stop shooting at each and look at it before it simply states “Wrong answer. Now I’m not usually one for teaching those I’m about to kill a lesson, this place ‘the crater’ that’s not it’s real name, that’s just what the only jedi who ever came here called it. The real name of this place is ‘daba'r’ which is mandalorian for ‘The beginning’ and in my case that’s what organics would call, symbolic.” 07 simply points it’s blaster at M4 and begins firing “Enough talking, shut up and die! For the empire!” and in suit 06 yells in response “For the republic!” M4 simply draws it’s blasters and opens fire on the two, bolts ping back and forth as the 3 all try to get a killing shot on each other. The battle raged on into the cold night, the once more cold desert allowing all 3 machines to operate at their respective peaks. With the fight going nowhere, M4 jettisons itself at 06 to no avail as 06 dodges and M4’s stomach crashes into a charred rock before it gets grabbed by 06, which repeatedly strikes the point hit by the rock before turning M4 around to use as a shield against an oncoming 07, piercing M4’s armour with a metal screech painful enough to deafen even the poorest functioning hearing. In this state of immobility 07 begins to strike M4’s face plating repeatedly, the unified wish of the two copies to destroy their original outweighing their dogma against each other. The strikes against M4 so continuous and powerful the metal begins to bind inwards until the sound of shattering glass could be heard, one of it’s primary optics had been broken, unable to even move the two opposites throw the broken droid to the side as they begin punching each other out.

Chapter 7: Can’t beat a classic

The shattered, cracked and flickering optics of M4 fade in and out as the sound of white noise clouds the sound of the copied droids slamming their metal fists into each other, this wasn’t meant to happen, how did this happen? All M4 could do was search it’s memory, what had it miss? Past Nat’s party, past fighting the progenitor, past working for Azutek, killing Stalos, killing Grillrilot, further than even the first time on Tatooine… Soon M4 only reached nothing but darkness, except for one sentence, repeating over and over, in a voice even M4 didn’t recognize “Just because you can’t see doesn’t mean he’s not smiling, so you can keep your fake friends because I’ve got a better one!” ...how old was this memory that not even M4 could remember it? But it didn’t matter, the voice brought the old droid a feeling of warmness, not like the kind of heat on tatooine, a feeling of pride, even now M4 felt no fear, but it wasn’t a feeling of malice, something much better than that, something that caused the droid to roll over and pick it’s beaten body back up. Seeing this 06 and 07 freeze in place, how was M4 still able to stand on it’s 2 feet with only one primary optic working? To this question, M4 only gave one answer, with a tone of pure determination “I am made of stronger stuff than what’s on the surface.” Only with one response, the 2 droids began to run at M4, both of them trying to dent the other on the way to the stationary droid, 07 being the more agile of the 2 made it first, unprepared for what M4 was planning, using what power the droid had in it’s rockets it performs a roundhouse kick to 07’s face with enough force to tear off it’s face plating, and before the imperial copy could even retaliate M4 dug it’s hand into 07’s exposed face before tearing out the copy’s wiring, letting the now powerless assassin drop to the floor before turning it’s attention to the soldier. 06, having just witnessed the mechanical carnage, didn’t know what to do, it had no protocols to use for this scenario, it knew M4 could be brutal, but not to that extent, it had practically given up as M4 closed in on it picking up one of it’s blasters on the way, as 06 tried to analyse a new strategy it’s legs were shot out from beneath it as M4 grabs it by the neck, before speaking in the tone of anger “You are everything I ran away from, living proof your precious republic will burn in it’s own incompetence, you were never, nor will you ever be my equal or better. So allow me to properly introduce myself: I am M4-05, and I implore your masters to throw their entire army at me, waste the blood of their dogs, let them howl in pain for the sake of someone else’s ego, I will not provoke the republic more than they will provoke me so next time your masters consider trying to kill me, make sure they remember Grillrilot, and remember how he ended up because I am capable of so much worse!” with it’s speech done M4 begins to slam 06 into the same rock it had been thrown into earlier, repeatedly, until the last semblance of functioning tech had faded from it’s enemy, dropping it to the ground. Before leaving M4 places two oddly shaped detonators next to the robo-corpses of it’s copies before walking off just over a mile away, only pressing a button on it’s belt, an explosion large enough to level two buildings goes off in ‘the crater’ creating an actual crater now only muttering something with a joking tone as it limps off back to it’s ship “Programming is overrated anyways.” Epilogue: My turn Stumbling back onto the Tenacity, M4 puts it’s damaged body back on the bridge, pressing a few buttons to try and take-off, to nothing, now fuel or power, M4 chuckles at this “Of course… Things really are full circle… Oh well, at least I have options this time around…” M4 throws it’s head back as it powers down and a red and friend-sized astromech bursts into life as it exits the cargo hold, speaking in the native language of binary. “M4-05 = back to the beginning. M4 = searching contents… Contact = found.” Authors note

This, despite however bad it may be, was a lot of fun to write, sort of revisiting everything I’ve rped with M4. Now it’s no secret of mine that a couple of years ago I wasn’t in a good spot mentally, and since then I’ve got out of that state and been thanking people for listening to my bullshit ever since, and swtor rp has definetly helped me deal with the shit I was dealing with during all that. I’ve been rping on swtor for over a year now and despite all the arguments and drama, I’ve enjoyed myself at the end of the day, it’s been an escape and a way to socialise with new people who aren’t the sods I go to school with, so to the jedi, sith, mercenaries, the pubs, the imps, the overdramatic adults who act more like children than the actual 16-year-old, the mechanics, gamblers, the Mandalorians, criminals but certainly not to the ‘erp exposure’ guy, thank you. Thank you for making this past year so much better than it had any right to be.