mindless drones

FightWrite: Your Killers Need to Kill

Killers need to kill. It’s surprising how many writers ignore this very specific and important piece of the ones they claim are killers, heartless or not. Sometimes, there’s a difference between the character we describe in the text and the actions the character takes. An author can tell me over and over that a character is a deadly and dangerous person who strikes ruthlessly without mercy, but if they don’t behave that way in the actual story then I’m not going to buy it.

Show versus tell: the difference between who the author says the character is and the actions the character takes in the story. Especially if the actions counteract the description. Now, you do have characters who lie, characters who misrepresent themselves, characters who say one thing and do another, but these are not the characters we’re talking about. This is about ensuring that you, the author, know the character you are writing. Unless you’re hiding their habits, let us glimpse the worst they’re capable of.

Monster. I could tell Jackson I was a monster, but he wouldn’t believe me. He saw a strawberry blonde, five feet eleven inches. A waitress, a Pilates nut, not a murderer. The nasty scar across my slim waist that I’d earned when I was ten? He thought I’d gotten it from a mugging at twenty one. Just as a natural layer of womanly fat hid away years of physical conditioning, I hid myself behind long hair, perky makeup, and a closet full of costumes bought from Macy’s and Forever 21. To him, I was Grace Johnson. The woman who cuddled beside him in bed, the woman who hogged the sheets, who screamed during horror movie jump scares, the woman who forgot to change the toilet paper, who baked cookies every Saturday morning, the woman who sometimes wore the same underwear three days in a row. The woman he loved.

No, I thought as I studied his eyes. Even with a useless arm hanging at my side, elbow crushed; my nose smashed, blood coursing down from the open gash in my forehead, a bullet wound in my shoulder, Sixteen’s gun in my hand, the dining room table shattered, and his grandmother’s China scattered across the floor. He’d never believe Grace Johnson was a lie. Not until I showed him, possibly not even then. Not for many more years to come. Probably, I caught my mental shrug, if he lives.

“Grace,” Jackson said. “Please…” The phone clattered the floor, his blue eyes wide, color draining from his lips. “This isn’t you.”

Gaze locking his, I levered Sixteen’s pistol at her knee.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Morrison will take you in, he’ll fix this.” Her voice cracked, almost a sob. For us, a destroyed limb was a death sentence. Once, we swore we’d die together. Now, she can mean it. “Thirteen, if you run then there’s no going back.”

My upper lip curled. “You don’t know me.” I had no idea which one I was talking to. “You never did.”

My finger squeezed the trigger.

Sixteen grunted, blood slipping down her lip. In the doorway, Jackson screamed.

Do it and mean it. Let it be part of their character development, regardless of if which way you intend to go. In the above example, there’s a dichotomy present between the character of Thirteen and her cover Grace Johnson. There’s some question, even for the character, about which of them they are. It sets up a beginning of growth for the character as she runs, but it also fails to answer what will be the central question in the story: who am I? Which way will I jump?

If Thirteen doesn’t kill Sixteen, if the scene answers the question at the beginning then why would you need to read the story?

Below the cut, we’ll talk about some ways to show their struggles.


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Here’s a commission from a while ago for @runicscribbles and @itdans ‘s fic PROJECT ZERO  !!!! <3


The war with the Galra has stretched on for centuries and since the disappearance of the Last Paladin, the Resistance has been in shambles. With every passing day, the Galra’s control grows, infecting more worlds and building their army of mindless drones. Keith never cared for the war. Safe in the fringe colonies, surviving on nothing but his wits and skill, he thought the worst would pass him by. Until he met Shiro, a disgraced captain on borrowed time, standing against the Galra with nothing left to lose but each other.

A galactic war, a dangerous enemy, and a deadly synthetic virus. A story of two unwilling heroes fighting to find love against impossible odds.

retail etiquette

alternatively titled, “how to be a decent human being to people who are suffering enough as it is to help your supposedly entitled ass”

1. get off your cell phone.  
      - cashiers ( not to mention the people patiently waiting in line ) don’t need to hear about how little Kelsey’s doing on the soccer team, or how your mother-in-law is coming into town for her birthday and you’re just SO INCONVENIENCED by having to purchase paper plates and cheap napkins before her arrival.  just tell them you’ll call them back when you’re done.
      - if you can’t be assed to think about other people, at least acknowledge the cashier with a smile or a wave.  if they speak to you or ask you a question, don’t shush them.  tell your BFF Tanisha to hold on for what might be a total of four seconds. 

2.  when an item doesn’t immediately scan, please say anything but “oh, it must be free!”  please, dear god, anything but that.  you’re not being funny.  or clever.  or original.  they hear this at least ten times a day.  

3.  the number of items listed on the express lane is not a suggestion.  if you know that you have more items, don’t go there.  it’s that simple.  the express lanes have to be kept open for people who have small orders, so they’re not stuck behind someone with a cart piled high with what’s maybe a week’s worth of food and clothes you’ll inevitably be returning. 

4.  while unloading your cart, put the big items ( i.e., packages of toilet paper, crates of water bottles ) last.  there’s very little room for the cashiers to work with.  when you’re done unloading your cart, pull it up to the loading space and start putting the bags and other items into your cart instead of standing there and staring off into space or fiddling with your phone. 

5.  when you ask a cashier a store-related question ( i.e., how many coupons are allowed per order, whether or not you’re getting the right BOGO deal, etc. ), and they answer you politely and confidently, don’t challenge them.  they work there.  you don’t.  they know the way the store works.  you don’t.  if they’ve forgotten something or made a mistake, by all means, ask them about it – but do it politely.  we all make mistakes.  

6.  do not – i repeat, do not – put your money down on the counter or conveyor belt, especially if the cashier is visibly ready to take it.  hand it over to them.  if you need to count out some change, tell them so they can wait.  oh, and if they’ve already cashed you out, don’t hand over some random amount of change after the drawer’s open.  

7.  if your card’s declined, it’s not their fault.  don’t ask them why it wasn’t accepted.  they don’t know.  and don’t get angry or impatient with them, or insist you have money because you just deposited a check – they do not care.  they cannot help you with problems that are clearly on your end.  

8.  do not yell at a cashier.  once again, for the people in the back:  do not yell at a cashier, especially someone who’s clearly new to the job.  would you appreciate being yelled at for something beyond your control, or a simple, fixable mistake?  no.  so don’t do it to them.  

9.  if you get an answer you don’t like from a cashier and ask to speak to a manager, guess what?  you’re most likely gonna get the same answer from them.  here’s a news flash: the customer is not always right, the company will not always pander to your temper tantrums, and making a scene in front of a line of people with quickly-diminishing patience will not change their minds. 

10.  overall, please just be polite.  these people are working their asses off to help their customers, most of which don’t appreciate their efforts at all.  they’re constantly ignored, mistreated, questioned and degraded, and over time, it really does a number on their emotional state.  just be kind and courteous.  they’re human beings, not mindless drones.  smiles and nice conversations go a long way.  

if anyone else has anything to add, feel free.  floor associates, back room / production workers – go crazy.  share your woes and pet peeves.  

It’s the year 2376. The world is in ruin. Mindless drones wander the streets. Mankind exhausted itself to the point of near extinction. But there is one man who can still save them. One man who hasn’t been tainted by the curse. One man who still holds hope. He is… The Only Guy Who Hasn’t Played Skyrim Yet

Out numbered, out gunned, never out fought

My first real attempt at a humans are space orcs story. Written on my mobile, so excuse any spelling errors, I have proof read and tried to correct, but some may have slipped through the cracks.

Queen Krillix clicked her mandibles together in anticipation as he surveyed the situation upon his scanners.

The Vespula fleet consisted of five hundred dreadnoughts, two hundred heavy support vehicles, one hundred attack fighters, and one flagship; a Nova-class heavy bomber, a type aptly nicknamed by their enemies “planet smasher”.
The fleet of the United Sol fleet however, was a dozen warships, half a dozen battle cruisers, and a hundred mongrels; ships which had previously cargo haulers, research vessels, and transport ships meant to carry colonists to new worlds, all of them had been stripped down and retrofitted with heavier weapons and armour. They were not ascetically pleasing but were serviceable enough. For humans.

From her throne room aboard the planet-smasher “Iron Sting” (loosely translated into galactic common.) the queen extended her will to her army. The hive was not of mindless drones, her soldiers could think for themselves, their intelligence, their instincts, guided the hive to victory. But their will was the queens will and the queens will was their will. She guided them, drove them, gave them reason to live. The hive without their queen was a bunch of soldiers without a cause, without desire to do anything to eat and procreate. With billions of mouths that feed already the hive was running out of food in the handful of systems their already controlled. Expansion was the only key to their survival. So the queen drove them on, ever forward, ever outward, to new worlds and new foods.

So it had passed that the hive had found this small system, with an unassuming little star. Colonised worlds and strange fleshy-bipeds running around their little homes and growing food. No armies, no defences; none that bothered the hive anyway. Not even space worthy vessels.

The hive had descended and claimed this world. There had been but a paltry resistance from the bipeds. But farmers with pitchforks and lasers were no match against a single attack ship and the well trained soldiers of the Vespula when the will of the queen was behind them.

There in the ashes of the settlement, the hive had learned the name of the bipeds; humans. They had come to learn the name of their world; New Earth. They came to learn the fleshy bipeds were not born to this planet but another.

They were much like the hive, in their own primitive way. They dominated their homeworld and had spread. First across their own system and then, when they ran out of room, to others. Anywhere they found suitable they planet their two feet and claimed it for their own. Yet they also did something the hive did not. The humans called it Terraforming; to force a world to be suitable for your kind. The science caste had put their minds to this terraforming as a way for the hive to claim more worlds. But the process was slow, taking several hundred cycles. Dozens of queens would come and go before even one world was made suitable for the Vespula. An unnecessary waste of resources for too long a goal. Expansion of suitable planets was deemed the only true way forward.

The queen acknowledged a slight kinship with the humans, despite them being fleshy bipeds of dull colouring, and the Vespula were the great insectoids of the royal black and noble yellow. Like the Vespula, they were driven as the hive was driven, by the need to grow and survive.

The feeling of kinship did not make the queen stay her tarsal claw. If anything it encouraged her. These humans were not just prey, or a nuisance, they were competition. They needed worlds and food as did the hive. They had great, ever expanding numbers, as did the hive. How long before they came to battle over territory? The queen considered and decided to strike first. These humans were primitive. They had only recently discovered the means to travel faster than light. They had strange notions of peaceful exploration and learning. They took only those worlds which were not already owned by sentient beings. This was surely a hindrance. It was a weakness, if nothing else. When something stood in the way of your food you should strike it down. It was the only way to be strong. The only way for the majority to survive. No wonder they hadn’t expanded too far.

“Status?” The queen asked and the solder of the tactician caste responded.
“Scans show no other human ships in the sector.”
Then this paltry number was their whole fleet.
“Weapons appear to be high intensity lasers. Radiation signatures on the warships and battle cruisers indicate nuclear weaponry”

Primitive. Nuclear weapons, such a barbaric people. Yet effective enough in its own way. If it were not for their shield generators the queen might have been worried.

If the humans concentrated fire on one ship at a time the humans could break the shields and take down a dreadnaught or two. Such ha tactic would have even worked against the planet smashing Nova-class vessel. But during that time they would be taking fire from every other ship around them. They would surely be destroyed before any shields collapsed.

As it was, all the Vespula ships had shields and the human weapons would crash against them as they tried to attack ten times their number. The Vespula would cut through this pitiful fleet with their quantum cannons and proceed through this Sol system, claiming every inhabitable planet along the way until they reached the human homeworld. Glory to the hive!

The queen bent her will, her fighters felt her and obeyed as her will became their own. The weapons began charging, their ships took positions for attack. In a few more seconds the humans ships would be in range of their cannons.

Then there was a voice she had not expected. “My queen.”
It came from a drone of the technician caste, manning the communications station. He seemed confused, this concerned the queen. “We are receiving a message from the flagship of the human fleet.”
Thirty seconds until the ships were in range.

The queen waved a claw dismissively. “I have no patience for long speeches about how they will not be defeated how they will make their stand and-” the technician interrupted her, another unexpected thing.
“My queen, the translator states only two words.”
The queens antennae raised upwards- the equivalent of a smile to their race. “Let me guess, ‘we surrender’?”
Ten seconds and the ships would be in range.
“No my queen.”
The queen looked at him expectantly, “no?”
The technician looked again at his screen, which had translated the strange language of the humans into a written transcript. “It says, 'Leeroy Jenkins.’”
The queen’s mandibles clicked, her antennae dropped, the signs of confusion “Leeroy Jenkins?”

The ships came into range. The human ships raced at great speed. The Vespula ships fired. The human ships did not engage them?! They did not slow to attack speeds! They did not shoot. They charged onwards. Their movement was too fast. The quantum cannons missed! The targeting combat computers of the Vespula worked best on ships that had slowed to a proper attack speed. This was the speed of fleeing, but the humans were still heading toward them?! The queen was confused as were her soldiers, but their wills were found one thought, one desire; shoot the human ships.

Some ships hit, but they were only glancing blows off the armour of the speedy and agile human vessels. Then a luck shot! One human vessel, a war ship, exploded as the quantum laser caught its nacelles. The other vessels raced past, igniting their fallen comrades. They didn’t fire against the attack fighters, they ignored the cruisers and dreadnoughts. The puny human vessels penetrated into the very heart of the seam of hive ships.

Too late the queen realised their course; they were targeting the flagship, only the flagship. HER SHIP!
“All power to shields!”

Half a dozen nuclear weapons were launched at once, less than 500ft from the hull.

Just in time did the technician pour the auxiliary power into the shield generators. The shockwaves of the explosions made the shields rumble like a violent ocean. Radiation detectors signalled that the outside of the ship was already a hotbed of fallout. Their thick hull and shields were keeping the interior safe.

A second wave of missiles were launched. A third were close behind. Before those nukes even hit their shields, the ships of the first wave were in range and launching another wave.

Where was her ships? Her soldiers? Their powerful weapons? The queen already knew the answer, the hive was too afraid of the swift and agile
Human ships. They couldn’t fire upon them for the risk of hitting the flagship.

The fourth wave of missiles impacted. Alarms signalled the collapse of the shields and radiation penetrating the outer layers of the hull.

The tiny human ships were massing again, launching their fifth strike. Nuclear missiles and lasers fired simultaneously. All their fire was concentrated one one place; the bridge.


Far and away, across the void of space. The princess Noxi was torn from her rest in her sleeping chamber. Emerging from the warmth of her cocoon she scrambled to an opening and looked to the stars. For the hive they had always been warm and inviting, promising new planets, food and resources for the glory of The Hive. Now they looked cold and frightening. Promising unknown dangers and darkness. She felt a shiver run through her thorax.

Across the hive cries went up as the realisation dawned on each member of the Vespula race. Males, females, and larvae were all feeling as one the terrible loss and grief not only of so many brothers and sisters, but their beloved queen.

Princess Noxi felt an ache in the back of her head. There was no stopping it. It began instinctively as soon as her mother had died. She felt the ache grow in intensity, almost searing her brain, as her connection to the hive grew and solidified.

Within minutes the pain faded. Queen Noxi looked upon her hive with fresh eyes. The will of the hive was her will. Her will was the will of the hive.

These Humans. Not long ago their desire had been to destroy these fleshy bipeds. They were supposed to be primitive. They were supposed to be weak. They were supposed to fall to the hive like so many had before.

The soldiers in the sol system. Her soldiers now. Their fight was on hold. Their shock was fresh. They had just witnessed the death of their queen while they’d been stuck, helpless, lest they harm the queen they were trying to protect. They needed her guidance now, more than any other in the hive. They were waiting for it. Waiting for the will of their queen to guide them.

Queen Noxi gave her will out to all of the hive across all their worlds, the billions of minds received her, “Run. Run from the humans.”

She hoped it was enough to save them.

Sam got Jack a slave for the after party. Adorable.

Can you tell this thing got out of hand real fast? it was only supposed to be Jack and Mark… Based Sam on the Eye of Helios/Destroyer from Borderlands and the WAU from SOMA. 

I like to think when Jack lets the power get to his head, his eyes get all gross.

I hate hearing people implying that if Kara is in a relationship it diminishes her as a superhero. How is that a thing???? How is being in a relationship a bad thing? Why is it a bad thing for a female superhero to be in search of more in her personal life, but it’s applauded when a male superhero does it????? WHY ARE YOU GUYS PUTTING SUCH TERRIBLE DOUBLE STANDARDS ON THIS SHOW????

This is a superhero show and I love that about it, it’s why I started watching. But I also love just as equally seeing these superheros have lives outside of their Superheroing, which is what I expected out of the show. Which means seeing them with friends and trying to find love. Which is great!!! Being with someone else doesn’t make you less, just as not being with someone. They are both equally okay!!!! Why put down a character (who in the comics has found love in various ways) for trying to find happiness in ALL aspects of her life. And why the heck put down the character she is interested in? I don’t understand that.

Is Mon-El flawed? Fuck yeah. NOBODY IS PERFECT! And if they appear to be then there’s some shady stuff going on with said character because everyone has flaws. Mon-El can be arrogant (Kara is arrogant as well btw), but he’s working on it. He doesn’t always listen to Kara, but guess what, he SHOULDN’T!! He is not a mindless drone that just accepts orders. If he sees something he doesn’t agree with he is going to take action. Kara said she wants a partner, not a sidekick lackey. Partners disagree at times!! It’s par for the course. Kara has no self preservation and Mon-El sees that. He is becoming her self preservation. THAT DOES NOT MAKE HIM A TERRIBLE PERSON. NEITHER DOES WANTING TO PROTECT HER!! We all know Kara is pretty indestructible, but that doesn’t mean she can’t get hurt and doesn’t need saving. Alex and J'onn have both gone to save Kara. That’s what a team DOES!! They protect each other. Honestly, I don’t have the energy to mention all the other nonsense so many are saying to demonize Mon-El.

In conclusion, there is nothing wrong with Kara wanting to find love. Stop saying she doesn’t need a man to be a superhero. She doesn’t, but she WANTS to find love and that should be the end of the discussion. She has found it in Mon-El (for however long that is), she has a connection with him (with ALL of her personas) and acting like spoiled children not getting your way is ruining a good show for so many. Stop throwing tantrums and either stop watching or be content with what you get! I’ve been through too many different fandoms, with things I’ve shipped that have never become cannon, to deal with your immaturity and juvenile behaviour.

An Overly-Earnest DS9 Post

One thing I’m enamored with is the pervasive sense that these races are tragedies. The Jem’Hadar and, to a lesser extent, the Vorta, aren’t treated in the usual manner enemy alien races are. They’re literally engineered to be killing machines, but they’re shown as multi-faceted and with cultures of their own, not just as mindless drones there to provide a threat and be killed. They are races of sycophantic, treacherous bureaucrats and warriors of extreme ruthlessness, but in both cases we are shown just how ill they’ve been treated by the Founders. It’s as if they are both species of Frankensteins, clones without even the most basic genetic agency. The Jem’Hadar have literally no means of reproduction independent from the Founders, and the Vorta are all clones of themselves, expendable middle managers. Vorta are sent out to negotiate with autonomous species as a form of diplomat, getting enough experience to know just how many senses they’ve been deprived of. They can’t taste anything but what was purportedly the native forest food of their original species, a reminder of how the Founders “elevated” their race, and perhaps the poison they’re engineered to be immune to. They don’t have a sense of what’s beautiful, they can’t even see clearly, but they do have a suicide switch in their brains. The Jem’Hadar have short, brutal lives without even a chair to sit on as they fly off to their deaths.

And yet…they’ve somehow erected cultures for themselves in spite of this oppressive oversight. The Vorta have their own creation myth (one given to them by the Founders, to be sure, but one that they’ve embraced and imbued with their own meaning). The Jem’Hadar have their own rituals that make the distribution of the enzymes they need to live (and which keep them dependent on their masters) like communion. They have a code of honor that they abide by and draw meaning from, however fatalistic.

You Serve Me

Request: “Reader teases Graves the whole day at MACUSA after the fight they had, (just everywhere, in his office, elevators, even at meetings omg), and when they come home after work the whole thing ends up with angry, sort of punishing sex for the poor reader. {I love your writing, honey, you’re an inspiration because I write myself sometimes}” + “could I request a percival smut that he and the reader work together and they have a love/hate relationship? love your fics btw ♡”

Pairing: Percival Graves x Reader

Word Count: 2031

Warnings: Smut

Originally posted by givemeloveeff

“This isn’t right.” You said to yourself mostly, but Percival still came over, looming his head over to look at the paperwork. His cologne wafted into your senses, mixed with the smell of peppermint toothpaste and coffee. It was just hitting 9am, and you were already eager to head home, not wanting to deal with the pile of irrelevant data that had stacked up on your desk.

“Then fix it.” He shrugged, sipping on the double espresso coffee you had brought for him before work started. “That’s what you’re for, right?”

You had to hold yourself back with great difficulty from slapping his smirking mug. This had been going on since the start of the week, and you were completely fed up. It was enough to belittle you by using his superiority to make you take his coffee orders, but now he was crossing a line by getting you to do his work.

“How long do you plan to torment me?” Your voice raised, face locked in a permanent scowl as you watched the smile fall from his face.

“Are you forgetting your role, (Y/n)?” He grumbled, trying to look indifferent as his cold laced words escaped him. “I am the director of magical security, you serve me.”

You threw your hands in the air, flabbergasted. “Yes but I’m not your personal assistant Percy-“

“That’s Mr. Graves, while you’re here.”

He threw a knowing smirk. He was playing a dangerous game here, but he didn’t seem to realise. You could’ve let every Auror know just how Mr. Graves likes getting his cock sucked, or how he worships your body on the weekends. But instead you found yourself putting on a pleasant smile, obeying him for the sake of plotting your revenge in a much more torturous way.

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Bound By Chains - The Final Chapter

Pairing: Eric/OC
Fandom: Divergent
Rating: M

She’s bound to a monster. And he has personality issues.

A/N will be at the bottom. 

Tags: @dauntlessmetalmom @equalstrashflavoredtrash @badassbaker @red-diary @pathybo @murmelinchen @insertamazingwords @feminamortem @halefiresurvivor @suchlonelymuchsoul @elaacreditava @lauraaan182 @synnocence @jcause @glittergiirlgg @platitudinise @frecklefaceb @mimigemrose @sparklemichele @beltz2016 @ariwolff14 @queensoybean @impalalala6799 @tomarisela @original46 

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Why Wash, David, and Agent Washington are all acceptable names

So I’ve been waiting for this moment. For a really long time. So… prepare for a long post under the cut. (Mobile users… sorry. :( I feel your pain.)

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why do you act like team family is a bunch of mindless drones that can’t think for themselves? if they didn’t want to follow rick trust me they wouldn’t do it. you see what sasha and rosita did they tried to take matters into their own hands. if anyone else disagreed with rick, they would do it too.

My favorite show as a kid, besides Courage the Cowardly Dog, was Beetlejuice, which practically no one remembers, but I remember every weird, horrifying, rude, incredible second of it. 

Originally posted by 90scartoons

But it always freaked me out that these two were friends, and that at no point did they even go over all that shit with the wedding, the poltergeist, and the turning your entire family into mindless drones stuff. 

Still. The animation was wacky and the writing was smart, and I was always glad for the laugh when I had it on! 


I started this as a tiny side project to give my brain a break from The Training, and I wanted to share what was going on in my brain. I know this is not the traditional Eric /OC story, but I promise it’s an interesting read. There’s all kinds of fun stuff in the next few chapters :)

I also dedicated this to @feminamortem for believing in this idea. 

Summary: When Jeanine’s plans for experimenting on divergents accidentally leaks to the factions, she places the blame solely on Eric in an attempt to clear her name. Sentenced to spend time in a mental institution, Eric must either abide by their rules or find a way out before they permanently erase his memory. Will he succeed or will he wind up nothing more than a mindless drone?

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Some advisory notes for people new to social justice & activism:

  • be critical of your own opinions, old and new. this doesn’t mean being cynical, it just means, thinking carefully, backing things up, and being willing to change your opinion if you should.
  • be critical of people & sources you agree with - if they’re correct, they should still be able to prove or convince you without a free ride
  • recognise that non-mainstream and/or left-wing and/or neutral opinions can be just as blinding as mainstream and/or right-wing and/or conservative opinions and vice versa. the key is to critically learn and apply them
  • recognise that not having a strong opinion is fine, but again, that neutral opinions can be strong opinions (in both a ‘you don’t have to be extreme’ way and a ‘saying nothing has its own effects’ way)
  • you don’t have to constantly surround yourself with people who disagree with you or challenge you - that’s exhausting! - but don’t let yourself become cocooned or you will become that Liberal Hippie Trash or Mindless Conservative Drone the ~other side~ complains about, I promise you
  • recognise that politics is not black and white. the major parties will overlap. privileged & less privileged groups will overlap. people will agree with you on one thing and disagree on another for the same reason. people from the same groups will have different opinions, even on ‘their issues’, because groups are not individuals. allies may still be acting as amplifiers, just not for the voices you have heard.
  • recognise that everyone is at different stages in their social justice journey and they may not know everything you know!! a lot of the time, offence done by accident is blown way out of proportion and a typo or slip of the tongue turns into a flame war, or an important correction is taken to be an attack. in these cases, nothing gets done and lots of people feel like shit, so instead, try to respond well to criticism but also, to not be a dick
  • recognise that sometimes - especially those times when you find you don’t have a strong opinion - something means a lot more to other people than it does to you. you don’t always have the place to speak with as much weight as others. in these situations, try to be an ally.


The war with the Galra has stretched on for centuries and since the disappearance of the Last Paladin, the Resistance has been in shambles. With every passing day, the Galra’s control grows, infecting more worlds and building their army of mindless drones. Keith never cared for the war. Safe in the fringe colonies, surviving on nothing but his wits and skill, he thought the worst would pass him by. Until he met Shiro, a disgraced captain on borrowed time, standing against the Galra with nothing left to lose but each other.

A galactic war, a dangerous enemy, and a deadly synthetic virus. A story of two unwilling heroes fighting to find love against impossible odds.

PAIRINGS: Sheith, Hance (future chapters)
Tags: Dark Keith, space war, slow burn, fake dating, hurt/comfort, memory loss, mind control, smut, enemies to friends to lovers, mild ABO themes, robots in love, mutual pining, redemption
RATING: Teen (future chapters will be explicit)

Thank you to @ohhicas for our beautiful banner!