#dutybound

[the-voidbound]

Visitor. It is I, the Voyager. I have come to ask where our intel is. I cannot tell my grunts where to go if I myself do not know where they are supposed to go.

@the-darkest-voyage

!! Just a, just a sec, sweets-

Voyager, I've been, uhm- preoccupied, apologies.

I've gotten myself, kidnapped? abducted-? But I promise you it's nothing horrible, really- !! Just give me a few days and I'll get you your intel, hm ?

[dutyboundextras]

I didn't realize that my old phone had synced my photos from it onto my Google Drive, so I found this old Fassad sketch from 2020. I never really shared much about my DutyBound plans for him but one of the things I remember deciding was that his hair would be like Mario and Luigi's and that he always dyes it (along with his mustache) to hide that it's actually pink like Ionia's.

(The inspiration for that is based on the fact that if you pay attention you'll notice that Mario and Luigi's hair is a slightly different color than their staches.)

[problematic-rwby-shipping-poll]

SHIP #44 - DUTYBOUND

Do you ship Weiss Schnee/Ozma?

OTP

Ship

Neutral

Don't Ship

NOTP

Haven't Considered But Interested

Voting ended onOct 28, 2024

[way-to-the-future]

#20: Rin - Petrichor

(cw: sexual content)

Do you want to know the best part? We thought we actually won.

               I don’t pretend to be a strategist. I was never working at the highest level. But when they called me back from the border that first time, told me to pack up because we’d beat the skeleton crew of tin suits back, I was more than ready to believe it. We all were. Whether Lord Kaien was a puppet or a true father of the resistance – and you’ll hear either side, depending on which tavern you sit in at which time of day – that day, we were all ready to sing his praises down the bombed-out streets. For the first time in most of our lives (and you have to remember, here, just how many fathers and mothers died in that first invasion), we had achieved something. We’d achieved not a boot in the face, a lash or a harsh word, but something real, precious, almost tangible for all the reality that it was a fleeting dream. More, it was the biggest fucking thing any of us could imagine. And what did we do?

               We partied. We, who couldn’t rub two grains of barley together if you rounded up all of our cousins along with us, we got loud and stupid and drunk on all the watered-down wine we could dig out of collapsed cellars. I was hungrier than a street dog when I wandered into the camp-turned-festival, and the first thing I did was pound so much grain liquor I thought my heart would stop then and there. Maybe, a little bit, I wanted it to. Maybe spending moons in the dark, on my own, and coming back to the crashing of cymbals and steel-plated heads shoved on pikes wasn’t the welcome I needed. But fuck me if I was going to kill the mood.

               Discipline bleeds away with the memory of the conflict. It’s catharsis, garish and uninhibited, and not one of us willing to be the one to step back in line. People wrestle wearing the guards and visors of the last centurions to get trapped in the garrison. Shooting contests spring up, all for using up all the ammo the three-eyes had left behind. Idiots. I have to stop looking at it – all of it. Not because I can’t take it; don’t you fucking think for a second that I don’t want to join in the pissing contest.

               I know it’s not over. I didn’t do my part.

               I find the courage, at least, to face the proxy. It’s close enough to the rainy season that some insightful souls have stretched lengths of silk and canvas between the shells of the ruined houses that host our celebration, and the one right above me is a brilliant forest green, embroidered in red-gold thread with the image of fucking Suzaku, of all things. I try to keep my eye on her, on my southern goddess, and show her I’m still ready to fight. I’ve got passion, spirit, fury enough to meet the next threat. I’m not tapped out. Instead, this lady keeps putting her tits in my face, blocking my view.

               More’s the fool me for trying to manage some sacred communion while her boyfriend is pulling me apart ilm by agonizing, maddened ilm. I don’t have the grace to ask myself if the Four Lords want to see me getting fucked, here on the shattered tile floor of some hovel which very likely serves as someone’s tomb. I’m done with it; really, truly done, and this I demand of myself when she dips forward and the ride gets another few degrees too severe, another step closer to the beating I deserve for spending the fight for freedom tucked in a blind in my other motherland. Here’s my fucking battle fury, oh Lords: here’s what your son can do when you put him to the test for his people. I can take it as hard as my brothers in arms like to give it to me, go as long as my sisters want. Hero of the liberation that I am, catching this punishing fuck while my comrades have at least the grace to be on their knees and not on their backs.

               I’ve got a great view, at least, to see the storm begin. The cloth shelters our heads, kami forfend, but I watch the whole while as Suzaku sags under the weight of the rain damping her tapestry. I’d laugh if I could catch my breath for a single fucking second. Good mother that she is, the Queen of the South shelters me all through it, even while she and her disappointment stare me in the eye.

               Needless to say, I don’t stick around for the celebrations the second time around.

[camshaft22]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 8/9 Fandom: Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Derek "Hobbie" Klivian, Wes Janson, Wedge Antilles, Tycho Celchu, Leia Organa, Ackbar (Star Wars), Airen Cracken, Garik "Face" Loran, Tyria Sarkin, Kell Tainer, Rogue Squadron Members (Star Wars), Wraith Squadron Members (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Depression, Presumed Dead, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Amnesia, Wakes & Funerals, Survivor Guilt, Captured by The Empire, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary:

After the Battle of Distna, Rogue Squadron is presumed dead, except for one survivor.

Hobbie Klivian is the Last Rogue. He hates it.

[dutyboundcomic]

DutyBound- Chapter 0 Page 21

Wess if you scoot any farther towards that ledge having Duster become a thief-in-training will be the least of his troubles.

[askdutybound]

which of you are the cutest when you're angry

It is a mystery…

@i-can-do-tricks Thank you so much for the amazing ask- it was a really great question!

[curiouselementalist]

Mending the Broken Pieces

It’s symbolic.  Happy father’s day.

I’m creating a Mother 3 webcomic called DutyBound, a story about becoming a better person and fixing the things you’ve broken to create something beautiful.  It will be a hard-earned victory but eventually they’ll be able to see the light.