#I personally have not been this invested in my own OCs since I was a child.

[forcedhesitation]

OHHHHHHHH wait. that community update. HOLY SHIT!!!! HOLY SHIT! THAT MUSIC?! it's a villainous version of the end theme (gather your allies? i think?), but wow, it sure is fucking awesome.

and confirmation! the issues with wyll's unique greetings ARE bugs and they are fixing them thank goodness T___T

photo mode incoming too (time to add another 30gb of bg3 screencaps to my computer)...and apparently many other cool features. very exciting announcement overall.

[raidante]

I’m embarrassed by how invested I am in my own work… bruh

[fanon-elio]

By your side.

Part 1

Summary: You are the CEO of a big company and hired Lycaon as your personal attendant, however it seems that your wolfish butler has developed a crush on you. So while you and him were on a business trip, both of you were forced to confront your growing feelings for eachother.

Tag: Sfw

Pairing: Von Lycaon x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional and is not canon. You are responsible for the content you consume, so if the following warnings trigger you, you may read at your own risk.

Warnings: Fluff, Slow burn'ish, long fic, mutual pining, reader is smaller than lycaon, lycaon is down bad horrendous, friends to lovers type stuff, slight suggestive themes at the end.

Angst, Sexism (Not by Lycaon), slight racism (Not by Lycaon), jealousy, reader is lowkey burned out.

Other warnings: lowkey my first fanfiction, pls go easy on me. (T^T)

Yes, this fanfiction WILL contain Nsfw in the future.

I added some throw-away characters to the story as plot devices, no they're not oc's and they hold no importance to the story other than providing character development.

This fic contains a lot of scenarios written in Lycaons pov cuz i eat this shit up for breakfast.

I did not intent for this fic to become so long, that i had to split it into different parts. But i'm lowkey kinda happy how it turned out. Sorry for any possible mistakes. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. also, don't mind me adding a drawing i made just for vibes. Enjoy!

Lycaon has been your personal attendant for over a year now, attending to your every wish and request dutifully while you were busy handling your business.

At first Lycaon thought this was just going to be a job like any other, only to be proven wrong rather quickly. To say that both of you hit it off right away would be a slight understatement, it was shocking how good you two got along and understood eachother.

You impressed him with your steadfastness and professionalism when it came to your business. Something that seemed to resonate with him, and not only because your company specializes in custom-made prosthetics for humans and thirens alike. Even though this was what originally caught his attention, since his own mechanical legs were quite difficult to overlook.

Said mechanical legs were also the reason what made him so invested to support you where he could. A wish to see you succeed because your work greatly benefited other people - people just like him.

When you one day asked him if he could accompany you for a business trip to meet potential new investors, he accepted immediately without a second thought.

So with your ever so attentive right hand always by your side, you got in your car and were on your way.

---~---

Lycaon wanted to make your trip as enjoyable and comfortable for you as he possibly could, this is what you hired Victoria housekeeping for after all. Making sure your every desire was satisfied, and your every wish fulfilled was his duty to you...

So now imagine his sheer discontent at the current situation as he was forced to watch you awkwardly eat, or at least tried to eat the food you had on your plate without it coming back up.

"Caviar, what a pretentious meal" he had thought, clearly he would have made something better for you instead of whatever your plate was currently punishing you with. But the awful food wasn't the only thing what made this meal so infuriating, but rather the person on the other side of the table. A rich business man who had invited you to dinner a day prior to the planned gala which was the main reason of your trip.

If it were him, he would have declined the invitation. However, you hoped to draw a benefit out of the invitation - wanting to win this new investor for your cause.

Yesterday he had respected, if not even praised you for your decision. But right now he hoped you would throw your plate at said investor's face, good manners be damned. The short man, who barely didn't reach to Lycaon's chest, was ranting on and on about his achievements, trying oh so desperately to impress you on a more private level instead of the professional setting his earlier sent, very formal invitation was supposed to set up. And what was even more painful was not this poor excuse of a meal, or the way that man's voice hurt in Lycaon's ears, it was the way how he treated you.

He has interrupted you at least 5 times now, shooting down any of your advances to steer the conversation into what you were originally here for, and he grew more frustrated by the second.

"Of course I'm aware of the common folk's suffering, I myself invested a pretty penny in the research of joint and hip replacements, even going as far as to pay for a dozen surgeries for people who couldn't afford it, out of my own pocket i might add" He bragged, clearly nothing more than empty words in an attempt to woe you.

"That's wonderful, I'm glad you see the importance of our cause, I'm thankful that you want to support us as an investor-" you once again tried to redirect the conversation... "naturally I couldn't say no to such a stunning young Lady such as yourself" ...but once again failed.

Lycaons ear flicked in annoyance as your host continued to shamelessly flirt with you, while he was forced to listen.

Even though it is shameful and rather scandalous for Lycaon to admit, he has indeed developed feelings for you.

Feelings that go far beyond that of those an attendant should have for their employer but he couldn't help himself but be in awe of you. Of how you're able to be so strong and yet so kind, so strict and yet so graceful, so serious and yet so playful, the later a side only he gets to see when you allow him to indulge in the trust and friendship you have built with him.

And yet, both of you were once again forced to listen to another audition of your host's self-indulgent rambling.

"I was honestly surprised when you showed up earlier" he said suddenly, "how so?" You replied, politely putting down your fork as you reached for your drink hoping to wash the awful taste off your tongue it seems "In all honesty, I would have expected a man to show up instead of a woman" the man across from you spoke, and you grimaced clearly not only because of your drinks taste that was ordered for you by your host, insisting you drink some expensive wine with him, but also because of the sheer rudeness of the others answer. "Is that so?" You put down your glass and Lycaon had to supress a growl that threatened to escape his throat.

"Don't take this the wrong way sweetheart, it's just surprising nowadays to see a woman running a succesful business that doesn't include fashion or make-up" you briefly closed your eyes and took in a silent breath while Lycaon clenched his fist behind his back. "Times have definitely changed, Mr. Goldman" you replied, trying to stay polite despite the sexism thrown your way.

Lycaon on the other hand, tried to come up with any sort of excuse to get you out of this awful situation, clenching his jaw so painfully hard he was surprised his teeth didn't crack under the pressure. Clearly this man didn't see eye to eye with you, treating you like a trophy he's trying to win, completely disregarding and undermining your achievements and reducing you to nothing more than a pretty face.

How disgusting he thought.

"Please allow me to invite you to a party tonight, a pretty little thing like you would fit in just right" he shot a wink your way and Lycaon swore he saw you shudder for a moment. "But you can't bring him" Mr. Goldman said, using his fork to point at Lycaon. "Why does it bother you so?" You asked, now having completely abandoned the polite smile you wore just a few seconds ago. "It's a party of class of course, my apologies miss, but he doesn't fit in with the rest" Lycaon shot him a quick glare "he'd have to stay outside with the other pets" he felt his blood boiling, he's just about had it with this pretentious, condescending and sexist piece of shit.

However, he straightened his posture, remaining polite and professional. He gave you a quick glance as a silent way of asking for permission to make a break for the exit with you, maybe kicking that wimp across the room on his way out.

But his swirling thoughts were interrupted by you gently pushing your chair back and standing up.

"My apologies but I'm afraid I won't be able to attend then..." you spoke firm but still polite "...Lycaon is to remain by my side" you spoke and Lycaons heart skipped a beat. "Surely you can find someone else to accompany you for tonight miss y/n" your host argued, "I'm afraid not Mr. Goldman" you spoke, giving Lycaon a quick glance and the permission he needed.

With a small flash of satisfaction thrumming through his veins, he swiftly moved towards the door, opening it for you, "this way please." He said, bowing politely.

You grabbed your purse and made your way towards the door, making sure to give your was-host another glare on your way out. "Furthermore, Lycaon is not a pet" you said, not even trying to hide your discontent at the other's comment towards your companion.

"We'll see each other tomorrow at the gala, have a pleasant day Mr. Goldman" you replied as the door fell shut behind you and Lycaon.

---~---

The ride back to the vacation home you were currently residing in was quiet. Lycaon noticed that you seemed to be absorbed in your thoughts, possibly reflecting on anything that had happened.

He wanted to say something to ease your nerves, but couldn't find the right words. So instead, he opted to let you have the time you needed to wrap your head around the situation and how to act from here, since Mr. Goldman definitely didn't seem like a reliable support for your company or any other situation for that matter.

You came to a stop at a red light, and he couldn't help but glance at you again, at the way the sun cast a gentle glow on the features of your face and the way it almost seemed to make your hair shine in response to it's gentle rays of light. He once again finds himself greatly impressed by you, with the way you stood firmly to your standards and morals, how you remained patient and professional even though that filth didn't deserve an ounce of your kindness. However, more so than anything, it is the words you spoke at that moment that still vividly swirl in his mind,

"Lycaon is to remain by my side."

He loved the way you said it, perfectly capturing his own desire.

It is quite apparent to him that he no longer views his current situation as a job, he enjoys it way too much for that, and yet a small piece of his consciousness still berated him for acting like a love drunk puppy for so openly and unabashedly admiring you. You seemed to notice his gaze lingering on you and turned your head to look at him - but he had looked away just at that moment so you wouldn't notice how starstruck he appeared, at least he hoped you didn't. And yet, a small smile still found a way onto his lips.

He pulled into the driveway of your current abode, he felt glad to be back so early, despite the given turn of events at your "dinner."

While he got out, walking over to your side of the car to open the door for you, he already thought about what he could do to get your mind off that incident to at least make your day end on a positive Note.

Both of you entered the spacious place you and him called home for the time being. You sighed in relieve as you kicked off your high heels, whining at your terribly sore feet. You were glad this day was finally over, even though you felt all the more anxious about tomorrow's gala.

With your meteoric rise to fame also came a lot of pressure. The demand for your services and products rose daily. So much so that you had to expand your production efforts, almost doubling your expenses in the process. Dispite that, your manufacturing department was still slowly starting to get overwhelmed. However, the need for new employees couldn't be met without the necessary funding.

You made your way towards the kitchen, watching Lycaon as he was already preparing a proper dinner for you both. "Do you need help by any chance" you asked, even though you already knew the answer "I appreciate your offer master, but there is no need" yup, thought so "why don't you sit down in the livingroom and relax master, you had a straining day, and deserve a break." He said, shifting his attention back to cooking, "I shall inform you once dinner is ready"

Lycaon has always been that way, ever since he'd started working for you. But the more time you two spend together, the closer you two became, forming quite the strong friendship with eachother. Even though you hoped it would be more than that.

If you're being fully honest, you had developed a crush on the wolfish gentleman for quite some time now.

Okay, it might be more than just a little crush with the way he makes your heart race when he looks at you, or your head all dizzy with euphoria when he speaks with you while his deep voice still sends pleasant shivers down your spine.

He was easy to talk to and always had an open ear. Even though you did feel guilty by the way he was constantly spoiling you, wanting absolutely nothing more in return than your smile. In return, you started to praise him where you could, swooning over the way his ears tend to flick or the way his tail would wag a little, subtly portraying his feelings to you dispite his efforts to stay professional. You enjoyed when he was happy, so much so that you would always have to fight the urge to ask him if he would allow you to pet him.

"Dinner is served master"

---~---

After dinner, you found yourself sitting at the small bar of your kitchen. A glass martini Lycaon prepared for you in your hand as you engaged in riveting conversation with him, gossiping about your shared experience with Mr. Goldman as he did the dishes.

"And that awful vest of his? Olive green with orange? I don't think" you laughed and Lycaon secretly preened at the sound. "I was terribly tempted to throw my drink at him let me tell you, a shot of red would have been nothing short of a favor" you replied, and he nodded fully agreeing "unfortunately it wouldn't have made his face any more tolerable" he responded "much less his nasty attitude." Lycaon was still very sour of the other man's behaviour towards you. However, he felt his heart soaring when he remembered how you had stood up for him. "Well, to be fair, it sure would have distracted from it at least." You said before chugging the rest of your drink "even if it would have enraged him?" He asked, putting a clean plate to the side as he grabbed the next. You chuckled, "And even so, I can always count on you to protect me, can I not?" His tail began to wag a little at your words, and you were satisfied with yourself at his reaction, "Absolutely, master."

"Still, I applaud you for staying as calm as you did" Lycaon admitted, and you let out a sigh, his ears immediately perking up at the sound. "My apologies if I'm prying master" he turned his head to look at you, your own resting in your hand, "are you nervous about tomorrow's gala?" He asked, slight concern shining through his oh so polished demeanor.

"A little bit, not gonna lie" you admitted, "I just hope there won't be more people like him at the gala tomorrow" you said. A silence coming over you, rage still bubbling in your gut when you remembered how Mr. Goldman had compared Lycaon to a pet. "Eh, and even so, I hope they have better food at least" you said "I mean, caviar? Really? That's way too cliché" he smiled, concerned at you spacing out but still glad to know you shared the same opinion as him.

He was aware of your worries.

Your financial situation being the topic at every meeting, and he worried greatly for your health as he watched you plunge yourself into your work, day after day without a break. He remembered the days when he had to force you to take a break, sleep or even eat something. He desperately wanted to save you from the burnout that slowly creeped up on you.

"I think I'll be hitting the hay" you said through a yawn, getting up from where you'd been sitting. Lycaon looked at you as he pondered how he could ease your worries, even if just for a little.

He dried off his hands and walked around the kitchen counter, "could you spare one more moment for me, master?" He asked, and you turned around, seeing him approaching. "Of course, what's up?" He didn't speak, instead he moved and gently pulled you into an embrace.

It wasn't restraining nor unpleasant, it was comforting and warm as you felt his arms wrap around you. "Don't worry master, I'm sure your hard work will pay off at tomorrow's gala" he spoke, low and gentle. You hugged him back, hearing faint rustling which you suspected to be his wagging tail.

Both of you pulled back, as this tender moment you and Lycaon shared slowly came to an end, even tho neither of you wanted it to. Both of you decided to retire for the night, tomorrow would be a straining day for the both of you after all.

Sleep would come quickly for you thanks to that bit of alcohol in your system, while Lycaon would lay awake for just a little longer, thinking about you as he tried to memorize the way you felt in his arms, letting this one certain sentence replay in his mind once again as he drifted off to sleep.

Lycaon is to remain by my side.

---~---

Everything was still dead silent as your eyes cracked open. You blinked a few times, wondering what time it was as you reached for your phone on the bedside table. Glancing at the display, as the discomfort from the sudden brightness slowly faded.

You sighed heavily as you looked at the daunting digits, solidifying your suspicion.

3:27 am

You tossed and turned, but couldn't find the comforting sleep you yearned for. Your stomache growled and you pondered going for a midnight snack.

With a sigh, you sat up and stretched, cringing at the cracking sound of your joints. Rubbing your eyes, you swung your legs out of bed and made your way towards the kitchen to make yourself a much-needed midnight snack.

You cussed out the sandman for once again having ghosted you as you rounded the corner, a flash of white catching your eye, and you stopped. Even though you knew that Lycaon was definitely an early bird type of person, you still didn't expected to find him standing in the kitchen at the same ungodly hour. The soft light of the opened refrigerator filling the room as you peaked around the corner, taking in his appearance.

It was surprising to see your wolfish butler, who was normally so professional and serious about how he presented himself to others, stumble shirtless and rather sleep dazed through the kitchen. His mechanical feet clacking on the ground and his tail swishing behind him as he moved around.

Never in the entire time he has worked for you have you ever seen him out of uniform, and the more you took in his disheveled appearance and his strong and muscular body, the less you seemed to care to admit that he was painfully handsome.

Ah hell, smocking hot would be a better fit. Naturally you assumed he was working out, but you had no idea your personal attendant was this ripped. You felt a bit embarrassed as you continued gawk at your friend and buttler's biceps and abs. You caught a glimpse of his teeth as he yawned, further noticing how different he looked without his muzzle and eye patch.

You let your gaze wander down to his prosthetics, slowly seeming to sober up, as you wondered what had happened to him that left him in such a state. From missing arms to missing legs, you had encountered your fair share of injuries since starting your business, but never had you asked what had happened before. Neither your clients and especially not Lycaon not wanting to pry into his past. Too afraid of accidentally offending him by reopening past wounds, and yet you couldn't help but wonder how he must feel. loosing one leg must be traumatizing enough, but both?

He closed the refrigerator and the sound of it ripped you out of your trance. You watched him as he scratched the back of his neck seemingly making his way back to bed, and you hoped that sleep still had enough of a grasp on him that he wouldn't notice your presence.

You decided to carefully make your way back to your bedroom as well, as not to embarrass him with a sudden entrance while he was so scarcely dressed. You hoped to actually find sleep again because you couldn't help the feeling that tomorrow would be an awfully difficult day.

---~---

Part 2 ->

Listen,

When i tell you that I absolutely did not mean to make this fanfiction this long.

At first it was supposed to be a oneshot, but as it so happens, i got absolutely carried away. And after +2k words i realized that i might wanna split this fanfiction up, cuz ain't nobody on tumblr wanna read an entire essay. Also, it's the way how anxious i am uploading this help. Let's hope it's gonna be a positive experience, otherwise i might admit myself to psychiatric care asap.

Anyways,

thank your for reading, i hope it was to your liking.

Part 2 will probably drop next Friday cuz i need time to make a new drawing.

Btw. Here is a quick doodle just for shitt's and giggles.

Aight bye~

-Elio

[phant0mmm-jaiden]

‼️I NEED YOUR HELP MAKING FITTING BIRTHDAYS FOR THE GANG‼️

i got deep into making up set ages for characters that lack them, and also set years they joined the gang (it started bcs i needed to know whose there at the point my OC is so i can write her backstory, and now here we are)

I’m basing it mostly on zodiac signs bcs that’s like the easiest was to get a personality vibe and i can narrow down the specific date from there

but also i don’t care, ill take anything if it makes sense JSKDJFN

BELOW CUT IS EVERYTHING I HAVE RN, FEEL FREE TO ADD COMMENTS WITH UR THOUGHTS, I’LL TAKE ANY THOUGHTS FOR ANY CHARACTER (I DONT CARE IF THEY ALREADY HAVE STUFF FILLED IN BCS MAYBE YOURS ARE BETTER) AND I'LL TAKE ANY THOUGHTS FROM AGES, BIRTH YEARS, JOIN YEARS, BIRTH MONTHS, BIRTH DAYS, HOWEVER SPECIFIC YOU WANNA BE I’LL TAKE <33

(source for all traits is zodiacsign.com, idk it helps me be narrow down a specific day🤷‍♀️)

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

- Founding member, for 23 years (1876, when he was 21)

- 44 in May 1899

- Born April 11th 1855 (Aries)

Positive April 11 traits: “Assertive, strong and remarkably passionate, they will burn every obstacle in their way if they have something to strive for. They are excellent workers and managers, showing initiative with just enough tact to be loved by a team they work in.”

Negative April 11 traits: “Preoccupied with their own problems, they could fail to see what their friends and close people are going through. Self-centered, too feisty, ready for battle when it isn't necessary, reactive, and sometimes aggressive when they should remain calm.”

HOSEA MATTHEWS

- Founding member, for 23 years (since 1876, when he was 32)

- 55 in May 1899

- Born October 22 1844 (Libra)

Positive Oct 22 traits: “Warm, open for emotional contact, and nurturing, they are tender and kind to those they love and treat everyone with enough empathy to resolve issues at hand. Their emotional sensitivity is their greatest strength.”

Negative Oct 22 traits: “Covered in sadness, broken and depressed, they might lose faith if they don’t give themselves time to rest and regenerate from past experiences. Tied by stories of their ancestors, they could simply play parts of others without getting truly invested in their own life and their happiness.”

ARTHUR MORGAN

- In gang for 23 years (since 1876,when he was 13)

- 36 in May 1899

- Born September 30th 1863

Positivity Sep 30 traits: “Truthful, powerful, deep and ready to commit to issues that are too painful for other people, they have the power to change the unchangeable and build a sense of magic in their life that allows them to attract and control their own destiny and heal others of prejudice.”

Negative Sep 30 traits: “Depressed or lost in what they’ve been taught, they could be too scared to get out of their usual directions and choices in life, getting stuck in mental activities that keep them unsatisfied, egocentric or grumpy.”

SUSAN GRIMSHAW

- In the gang for 14 years (since 1885, since she was 29)

- 45 in 1899

- Born March 27th 1856 (Aries)

Positive March 27 traits: “Standing out, innovative and wide in perception of the world, they are good friends and tend to build a social circle that can support them in their path. Free to shine and give freedom to other people.”

Negative March 27 traits: “Stressed, torn between extremes, their mood changes without warning. They can get aggressive if too much anger builds up, unsure how they will react or what their next move will be.”

JOHN MARSTON

- In gang for 14 years (since 1885, when he was 12)

- 26 in May 1899

- Born August 3rd 1873 (Leo)

Positive August 3 traits: “Straightforward, on the move, and wide in their opinions, they are the travelers with a cause, those who share their views and their knowledge selflessly, and wish to give their energy to those willing to follow.”

Negative August 3 traits: “Stubbornly chasing after things that aren’t real, they could get stuck in a loop of disappointment and mental efforts that won’t lead them where they wish to go.”

SIMON PEARSON

- In the gang for 13 years (since 1886, since he was 35)

- 48 in 1899

- Born December 16th 1851 (Sagittarius)

Positive Dec 16 traits: "Laughter, positivity, and a fun personality ordain those born on December 16th for as long as they are in tune with their talents. Emotionally charged, they stay on the move, give love to be loved, and understand how to create balance when they find themselves falling into an extreme."

Negative Dec 16 traits: "Lost in confusion of relating with others, they absorb atmospheres, feelings and ultimately opinions of others, thinking that their personality is defined by what others see instead of feeling their own core of Self."

LEOPOLD STRAUSS !!

In the gang for 12 years (since 1887, since he was 41)

53 in 1899

Born in September 10th 1846 (Virgo)

Positive Sep 10 traits: "Deep, intelligent and extremely powerful, they are focused and dedicated to the higher truth and find change satisfying, without fear of what tomorrow might bring. They bring order to large things in the lives of people around them and announce change everywhere they go."

Negative Sep 10 traits: "Obsessive, possessive and jealous, they can get dismissive of other people's ways and unwilling to recognize their own shadows while judging others. When bruised, they may become vindictive or manipulative."

UNCLE

- In the gang for 11 years (since 1888, since he was 43)

- 57 in 1899

- Born May 6th 1842 (Capricorn)

Positive May 6 traits: “Loving, creative, good with children, they are positive individuals with a lot of energy to live life to the fullest. Humorous, smiling, and grounded, they search for a place to belong to and connect easily to other people.”

Negative May 6 traits: “Unaware of the bigger picture, too focused on problems when they become aware of them, they can get obsessive and go into negative details for days. At times superficial in search for pleasure, but only if their heart isn’t open for relating.”

JOSIAH TRELAWNY

- In the gang for 9 years (since 1890, since he was 31)

- 40 in 1899

- Born May 26 1859 (Gemini)

Positive May 26 traits: “Loving, emotional, kind and caring, they are the messengers of beauty and laughter, humorous enough to make a grown person turn into a little child if this is their intent.”

Negative May 27 traits: “Using the power of words for strange things, unsatisfied and unable to find balance between emotion and reason, they get lost waiting and thinking about times when they were actually free while missing opportunities to set free in the now.”

ORVILLE SWANSON

- In the gang for 8 years (since 1891, since he was 38)

- 46 in 1899

- Born November 29th 1853 (Sagittarius)

Positive Nov 29 traits: "Idealists with a cause, they dream big and aren’t afraid to try themselves out in talents that make them who they are. On the quest for inner truth, they are sensitive, empathic and honest about the way they feel with people they love."

Negative Nov 29 traits: "Seeking attention and unable to untangle issues that keep them intoxicated or tied to the past, they could get lost, searching for ways to anesthetize that pain and forget what bruised them in the first place."

BILL WILLIAMSON

- In the gang for 5 years (since 1894, since he was 28)

- 33 in May 1899

- Born in April 27th 1833 (Taurus)

Positive April 27 traits: “Strong-hearted individuals, filled with vigor and energy for things that make them feel passionate. They are different but social, well-incorporated into society, and make excellent friends who find humanitarianism and compassion to be everything that is right in the world.”

Negative April 27 traits: “Sloppy, unsure what they wish to do with their energy and frustrated with their own nature. In opposition to themselves, they are unable to heal their own inner differences, becoming frustrated and passively angry at other people.”

ABIGAIL ROBERTS

- In the gang for 5 years (since 1894, since she was 17)

- 22 in 1899

- Born October 20th 1877 (Libra)

Positive Oct 20 traits: “Deeply emotional and empathic, if they keep their heart open throughout changes in their life, they become healers and incredible support in times of crisis and all possibly dangerous situations in the lives of others.”

Negative Oct 20 traits: “Casting their feelings away, they could become cold, distant, too difficult to relate to, and vindictive. They need a strong foundation to grow from and won’t be at all pleasant if they don’t learn to regenerate and flow with the beat of their heart.”

JAIDEN COHEN (my character )

- In the gang for 5 years (since 1894, since she was 23)

- 28 in 1899

- Born December 5th 1871 (Sagittarius)

Positive Dec 5 traits: “Witty, fun to be around, finding their way through the largest of social groups, they are the ones to speak their mind and say what everyone needs to hear, and those who boost confidence in others.”

Negative Dec 5 traits: “Talking too much, unreliable and insecure, they might turn to dishonesty to get out of troubling situations. They get distracted by too many things that spark their interest and don’t keep their focus and move in tune with greater priorities they have.”

KAREN JONES !!

- In the gang for 4 years (since 1895, since she was 21)

- 25 in 1899

- Born June 12th 1874 (Gemini)

Positive Jun 12 traits: "Emotional, sensitive, compassionate and willing to listen, they are less rational than other Gemini representatives and this gives them more space for relating and reaching for the Divine Love."

Negative Jun 12 traits: "Moody, torn between different roles and too adaptable to people and situations that don’t make them feel good. They get self-destructive when unable to deal with their own emotional baggage."

JAVIER ESCUELLA

- In the gang for 4 years (since 1895, since he was 22)

- 26 in May 1899

- Born August 13th 1873 (Leo)

Positive Aug 13 traits: “Energetic, focused visionaries, ready to act with initiative and clarity of ideals, they are the ones to fight for the cause and move forwards when others would stay behind. They are warm, passionate people, ready to learn new things and move one step ahead of the rest of the world.”

Negative Aug 13 traits: “Feeling as if they were all mighty, they often get caught up in their own ambitions and strivings, expecting nothing less than perfect from their ways of expression and battles that might be impossible to win.”

JACK MARSTON !!

- In the gang for 4 years (since 1895, since he was born)

- 4 in 1899

- Born ()() 1895

MARY-BETH GASKILL

- In the gang for 3 years (since 1896, since she was 20)

- 23 in 1899

- Born March 3th 1876 (Pisces)

Positive Mar 3 traits: “Great learners, teachers, and healers, they find love and beauty in everything they see and touch. It is their talent to use their optimism and beliefs, and turn every negative thing and experience to art, acceptable fate, and a step to a brighter future.”

Negative Mar 3 traits: “In denial, distant, lost, they can be wanderers that cannot find the right direction to move in. Their defense mechanism protecting them from hardship is delusion.”

TILLY JACKSON !!

- In the gang for 3 years (since 1896, since she was 17)

- 20 in 1899

- Born ()() 1879

MOLLY O’SHEA !!

- In the gang for 2 years (since 1897, since she was 22)

- 24 in 1899

- Born () () 1875

SEAN MACQUIRE

- In the gang for 1 year (since 1898, since he was 22)

- 26 in May 1899

- Born July 23rd 1873 (Leo) (sign rec from anon)

Positive July 23 traits: “Optimistic, with a fine sense of humor and ready to chase off any negative emotions with their smile, they are positive, loving and supportive of those they care for. Travelers and teachers, they have something important to give to the world.”

Negative July 23 traits: “Scattered and pushed by too many beliefs they never questioned, they tend to spin in circles of negative choices, lost in their inability to receive as much as they give away or vice versa.”

CHARLES SMITH

- In the gang for 9 months (Since August 1898, since he was 26)

- 27 in May 1899

- Born November 1st 1872 (Scorpio)

Positive Nov 1 traits: “Centered, standing firm on their identity and seeing the light in others, they make wonders in therapeutic and supportive relationships with those who are insecure and find it hard to stand confident on their own two feet. Strong-willed and ready to learn, they are the ones to lead the way when their beliefs are set in place.”

Negative Nov 1 traits: “Getting lost among strong individuals meant to inspire them, they give up on their true role due to lack of belief in their own emotional world and their personal convictions. This could get them lost and put their talents to waste out of the need to prove themselves worthy.”

LENNY SUMMERS

- In the gang for 9 months (since 1898, since he was 19)

- 19 in 1899

- Born June 5th 1880 (Gemini)

Positive June 5 traits: “Childlike, curious, excited about life and focused on their daily sources of happiness, they are humorous and always with a nice thing to say in just the right moment.”

Negative June 5 traits: “In need of a different view, they could get stuck in patterns that don’t give much room for personal growth. If their hearts close, they become superficial and uncaring for the wellbeing of those who aren’t in their closest social circle.”

MICAH BELL

- In the gang for 4 months (Since December 1898)

- 39 in May 1899

- Born January 1 1860 (Capricorn)

Positive Jan 1 traits: “Powerful and resourceful individuals with an incredible potential for a successful life, influential and knowing exactly where they belong. They are assertive, strong-willed, with a deep understanding for natural development of any issue at hand.”

Negative Jan 1 traits: “Inventors and great minds that turn to solitude and separate from the ideal of emotional fulfillment. Manipulative, they may be using questionable methods to reach their goals.”

SADIE ADLER

- In the gang for a few months (since May 1899, since she was 25)

- 25 in 1899

- Born July 4th 1874 (Cancer)

Positive July 4 traits: “Focused on their goal point, ambitions and understanding the consequences of their deeds, they are strong, endurable and extremely reliable as friends and confidants.”

Negative July 4 traits: “Dark and filled with depressing thoughts, they can get pulled by negative emotions, memories they don’t know how to metabolize, and nostalgic turns that pull them into harmful circumstances that weaken their boundaries.”

KIERAN DUFFY

- In the gang for a few months (since May 1899, since he was 28)

- 28 in 1899

- Born ()() 1871

THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELP ‼️

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Personally, I think that the main characters don't "appreciate" Yuu comes from the "TWST is a dating sim" angle. Like, sure, there are some flirty voicelines, but I feel like the boys don't express any interest in Yuu as a person besides Ace and Deuce since they've been friends since day one? I'm not saying people can't ship Yuu with the main cast or anything, but I feel like there's a real misunderstanding from the fanbase (the western one in particular) about what TWST is to begin with. (Sorry for the random rant, it's been on my mind!)

[Referencing this post!]

I understand where this sentiment may be coming from, but I don’t think wanting Yuu (the audience’s proxy) to be appreciated by the NRC boys necessarily comes from a place of seeing TWST as a dating sim. (Though with the plethora of misinformation being spread by gaming news outlets in the West, I’m not shocked some people still think TWST is one 💀 I literally saw a 2023 Crunchyroll article still claiming TWST has “dateable” Disney villains…)

I think a lot of fans are just so emotionally attached and invested in these characters that they wish they could be friends with them or to be more intimate with them in some other manner. (I, for example, see Kalim and Ortho as my metaphorical little brothers.) The players projecting onto Yuu probably also see themselves in Yuu, so the players, of course, want to be loved and appreciated by the characters they like. It’s part of the reason why I believe the characters are not ever allowed to be “too” mean to Yuu and instead direct most of the vitriol to the other boys; it would potentially offend the players that insert as Yuu and make the characters TWST is trying to market to less appealing.

Because the game itself limits Yuu to predominantly hanging out with Ace, Deuce, and Grim, all those other relationships have to be expanded on in personal interpretations and fan works. The clashing expectations arise when the fans begin mixing their fanon with canon and expecting that the canon reflect their own interpretations. This same problem has occurred before, such as the outcry over Yuuken Enma as the Episode of Heartslabyul manga protagonist (as some interpreted this as “female Yuus aren’t valid”, until the release of Hirasaka Yuuka as the Episode of Savanaclaw protagonist). Another example is the friendship with Malleus; players get value out of the friendship depending on how much they enjoy Malleus, rather than Yuu actually being a super close friend with him in canon. (I could list off more examples, but I don’t want to bog this post down too much.)

As the asker has said, that’s not to say that I’m discouraging self-shipping or shipping OCs with canon characters! I only caution you to be aware of how to differentiate fanon from canon and how to delineate the expectations and the realities of both from one another.

[necromosss]

I’ve followed you since 2020, through SWTOR and D&D and BG3. The imp trio are some of my favorite original characters by any creator. Your art style absolutely captivates me, and I love your sense of humor. I’ve really admired you as an artist and thought you were generally wonderful.

So seeing that you’ve been posting about Harry Potter up to the year 2023 absolutely breaks my heart. I know that you don’t owe your followers transparency about what other media you engage with, and that you’ve attempted to distance yourself from the franchise. But on the other hand, as a transgender person, I feel deeply torn. I genuinely want to keep following you, but the fact that you can still give any time or attention to that media and the person behind it just makes me feel awful.

I know that leaving behind a character you’ve invested years in wouldn’t be easy. But I really, sincerely hope that someday it will no longer be worth it. No matter how much you love a character, they’re not real, and the harm Rowling is doing with the platform you’ve helped give her is very real.

Hello anon, Thank you so much for voicing your thoughts out. I really appreciate you doing this and I understand your concerns and disappointment. You have ALL the rights to be disappointed! But please hear me out on this one (it is absolutely ok too if you dont!):

I absolutely, 100% in utter disdain about the fandom and that person. Heck, they supported the blue-white flag and i have zero tolerance for that (Palestine WILL be free). To say all love that I hade for the franchise died. (A lot of it was inconsistent and fucking awful anyway.)

and as you said; my characters are fictional, and in that regard what I did was to make a whole new worldbuilding of myself. And places my old OCs in there. (I hate the thought of using the old fandom, I really do. We are hating the same thing here). Was my world inspired by the 'original' world building? Yes. But does that mean I support them? Heck no. If anything, It is under my SPITE that want to STEAL the good ideas from there and make it my own. To my eyes they have lost the entireity of those rights and I will steal it for me and my friends. and mark my words and emphasize with the utter hatred: I WILL TWIST it to the thing that THAT person HATE THE MOST.

If you're curious, I have an entire world made to scratch. The only thing that is similar are just the 'houses' (which is to my knowledge, is a common thing in UK schools, but correct me if im wrong)

So fuck JKR really. I want them to go to the ground and to the bloody dust. Me and my friends in this RP are also sharing the same thoughts in this matter. We spite them, and we want just want to rip the good things out of their bloody, rotting hands.

But regardless if you want to leave or not, it really is up to you. I have no rights to keep you around, and you 100% SHOULD prioritize your own comfort first. Thank you anon, and I really appreciate your support of all this years 💖

--------

Oh and before anyone asks "Why dont you make an entierly different setting" Oh but I do! I have tons of world buildings, one of my pride and joy is KLIEVERDE UNIVERSITY where you can literally check the world here:

Mysthaven is placed in THE SAME worldbuilding as KU does. Just different campus, different aesthetics. There are other tons of other campuses in that worldbuilding too, so its not just one RP, really. (i try to make do! >.<)

[hedonistpoet06]

What If The Storm Ends? - Part 1 Five Hargreeves x Female OC

'What if Five's time during that first apocalypse was slightly different, what if he wasn't alone for all those years?'

Synopsis: On April 1st 2019, the world ended. Icarus had indeed flown too close to the sun when Five Hargreeves pushed the limits of his power. The boy desperately yearned to use his powers to time travel and when he succeeded, he found himself trapped in the future apocalypse. Octavia Maddenfield had spent her whole life hiding her ability to shield and protect, only for it to save her when an asteroid collided into the earth, effectively wiping out all of humanity. The two teenagers are ecstatic to find that they are no longer alone in the apocalypse, however they must learn to navigate their newfound dynamic as Five tries to time travel back to the past and stop the end of the world from ever happening. Octavia is intrigued by the boy's sarcastic demeanour but also incredibly frustrated by his secretive nature, especially towards his past. And Five despises how easy Octavia can make him vulnerable, he tells himself that he cannot become invested in their obvious connection but something about her is so undeniably captivating.

Authors Note: This work is also available on my Wattpad under the users 'hedonistpoet04' and AO3 'heartofthehedonistpoet06' if you wish to read it there!

Word Count: 5099

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐈 - 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐫̶𝐨̶𝐦̶𝐜̶𝐨̶𝐦̶ 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐬𝐞

i. 𝐁𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐑𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Octavia Maddenfield met Five Hargreeves during the second spring of the apocalypse.

The young girl had surprised herself with how long she had kept herself alive during the end of the world before she found him. During those first two years Octavia tried to tally the days but it was often difficult to keep track of the passing of time.

It was just before midday and Octavia had left the safety of her base to scavenge the city for anything resourceful, mostly food since that was of the utmost importance for her survival. She climbed the endless wreckage of concrete, metal and broken glass for what felt like hours. Octavia had explored most of the outskirts of the city but this was the deepest she had ever searched into it. She hoisted herself up onto a particularly large piece of concrete until her movement was suddenly paused by the foreign sound of something moving, something alive.

Octavia immediately froze at the reverberation of the sound throughout the otherwise lifeless landscape. She then quickly hid behind a particularly large piece of debrief, shielding her silhouette before turning her head to pinpoint the source of the noise. Her heart thudded painfully in the cavern of her chest, she could practically hear its pounding resonance deep within her eardrums. Octavia found herself polarised by the sudden prospect of seeing another person, another human being who was alive and made of flesh and bone. Her heart's incessant beating stopped abruptly when she identified the clear figure of a boy who had to be no older than herself. His back was turned and his face was hidden but she was able to extract some of his key features.

The boy had dark brown hair which looked somewhat overgrown and a slender physique, both were probably attributed to the apocalypse. Octavia felt slightly at ease by the knowledge that the first human she had seen in two whole years was most likely around her own age, however, she was also terrified. She stiffened when she saw the large hunting rifle he had strapped to his back as he continued to burrow through the wreckage like a hungry marsupial.

Octavia couldn't help but grow jealous at how fortunate this stranger must have been to have come across a gun in this desolate wasteland, as she was forced to make do with the few knives she could find that weren't completely rusted.

He was muttering to himself whilst digging through the debris, as if he was intently looking for something. Octavia peeked her head out a bit further out to try and hear what he was saying only for the attempt to be futile. She felt an overwhelming surge of curiosity and adrenaline coursing through her body, encouraging the girl to get closer and decipher what exactly this boy was doing. Careful to not disrupt him, she slowly started to crawl on all fours until she reached a fallen pillar. Octavia decided that this was close enough and inched her head out to get a clearer look. The boy in question was still oblivious to her presence, he continued to mumble to himself and she noticed his demeanour grew irritable. He swore under his breath before throwing a chunk of rubble into the distance, as if that was going to alleviate his frustration.

Octavia flinched at his sudden action and instinctively sought refuge behind the pillar. Unfortunately the sound of her quick movement had caught his attention. She froze and clasped a hand over her mouth to muffle the small surprised gasp that was about to leave her lips. It was too late, the boy knew that she was here or he was at least aware that somebody was watching him. Octavia was painfully aware of the large, lethal rifle strapped to his back as she heard him load and cock it, preparing to shoot.

She was stuck in a rather complicated situation, she couldn't run in case he decided to shoot her and if she tried to jump out and defend her honour he'd probably also shoot her. She was trapped with nowhere to go, so Octavia did what she told herself was a last and final resort. She used her powers on him.

She swiftly emerged from her hiding spot behind the pillar and met the eyes of the boy in front of her. Although he was still a good few strides away from her, Octavia could see the bewilderment in his eyes at her appearance. However, the barrel of the gun was still pointed in her direction and this made her panic. Octavia quickly outstretched her hands and focused all of her energy on manifesting her powers. She drew all of her focus into conjuring a forcefield big enough to encase the boy in front of her. Soon, the familiar lilac light of Octavia's ability had erupted around him, encasing him in a small but sturdy forcefield. She watched as he lowered the gun and darted his head to examine the newly formed forcefield, obviously taken aback by the abrupt manifestation of her power.

"Don't you dare move!" Octavia called out. She tried her hardest not to sound intimidating, after all she did have the upper hand in this situation. Although, the girl's voice slightly faltered, intimidation bleeding through her attempt at assertion. The boy took a step back in his new confinement, as if he was analysing the sphere around him. His eyes then darted from the forcefield to her.

"I wasn't going to attack you!" He snapped back, although the pitch and the youth present in his voice made it sound rather half hearted.

A complicated pang resonated in Octavia's chest at the realisation that this was the first person she had seen in two entire years. She wasn't exactly sure how to respond to the situation at hand, should she laugh? Cry? Or maybe just focus on making it out of here alive without a bullet between her eyes.

"You were pointing a gun at me!" Octavia retorted, gesturing to the rifle.

"You snuck up on me!" He bickered back and she quickly became aware of just how young they both sounded, like true teenagers quarrelling with each other.

"You have a gun!" She reiterated.

"You trapped me in a bubble!" The boy exclaimed before he demanded to be let go "get me out of this thing!"

"It's not a bubble!" Octavia countered, slightly offended at his belittling choice of words, "Besides, how do I know you're not going to hurt me?" she interrogated him further, eyeing the rifle in his hands.

"Okay, no gun. See? I'm not going to shoot you." He quickly shuffled the weapon to its original spot on his back and put his hands up as if he were surrendering.

"Not now you certainly aren't." She said, clearly referring to the forcefield around him. "Struggling is pointless by the way." Octavia tried her hardest to sound cocky.

The boy's eyes shot Octavia a withering glare, he saw straight through the facade of her confidence. "Yeah, obviously," he muttered back, trying to tug against the force field only to no avail.

He gives one more useless tug before he stops, scoffing. "Can you get this thing off of me?" The boy huffed, his irritation only growing.

Octavia had actually considered letting him out, a part of her youthful naivety believed that he was harmless enough but she was brought back to reality by the weapon that he carried and the fact that he was a total stranger.

"Only if you can promise me two things." She finally said, lowering her hands slightly but kept the forcefield maintained. She watched as the boy raised a brow at the bargain, clearly somewhat puzzled. He looks her up and down again, still eyeing her warily and Octavia suddenly felt extremely self conscious, like he was trying to dissect her with his eyes, which he was.

Five was still slightly disorientated by the purple light which surrounded him. A small part of him was impressed at the supernatural ability this girl obtained, the other part of him was pissed that he couldn't use his own to spatial jump out of her stupid bubble.

"And what exactly is that?" His voice was filled with dry amusement as she noticed him slowly but smugly cross his arms behind the lilac force field.

"Firstly, you'll tell me who you are..." Octavia started to speak as she looked him up and down again, examining to see if he had any other hidden weapons on him "and secondly, you have to promise not to kill me." Her cheeks slightly flush in annoyance as she sees him let out a chuckle at the girl's request, as if he found it humorous.

"Five," He announced matter of factly. "My name's Five," he glanced up at the force field again. "And I promise not to kill you," he responded with a bit of a scoff, in disbelief at the absurdity of his own words.

"Like the number?" Octavia raised her brow in surprise as she was genuinely taken aback by the absurdity of his name. The numerical nature of the boy's name was certainly not what she was expecting.

The boy, now renowned as Five exhaled a frustrated breath before pinching the skin between his brows. "Yes, like the number," he responds with a monotonous voice, like he's answered that question one too many times before.

"You only promised me two questions for my freedom, so let me out!" He said, growing increasingly more infuriated. Although Octavia had an abundance of questions regarding the peculiar name she subdued her curiosity into the back of her mind as she remembered their bargain.

"Right, sorry." She quickly muttered an apology and focused her energy on levitating the boy through the forcefield, hovering him just above the ground and moving him closer to where she stood. A perk of Octavia's unique ability was being able to control the contents inside her forcefields, including making them float. She watched in amusement as Five looked absolutely perplexed at his sudden levitation, his eyes flickered between his feet and back up at Octavia.

"What the hell—" he muttered, startled at the lack of ground underneath him. Octavia closed her eyes and focused her effort into deactivating the force field, slowly but surely the lilac light began to melt away. She watched as Five fell to the ground in a not so graceful manner, his sense of balance obviously disrupted by the sudden air trip.

"Crap! Sorry-" Octavia grimaced at the sound and started to move towards him to help him back to his feet but she held herself back. He's stunned, trying to re-ground himself for a moment before shooting an annoyed look up at her and she can't help but feel slightly guilty.

"Could've tried to make that a bit more graceful." Five huffed out, somewhat breathless from the abrupt descent to the ground.

Octavia watched as he stood up and dusted off his oversized black jacket. Five was now only a few feet away from her and this granted Octavia the opportunity to get a good look at his appearance. As much as Octavia was reluctant to admit it to herself, he was undoubtedly the most beautiful boy she had ever seen. Even when all things at the end of the world were considered, he was most certainly not that unfortunate looking. Five was definitely not in the cleanest state, neither was Octavia as their personal appearances were the last of their concerns when it came to their respective survival.

Octavia never considered boys her age to be cute or even somewhat appealing, her only understanding of what made a boy attractive were the boy band posters on the wall of her childhood bedroom. But something about Five was so endearing to her, from his slender cheekbones, to his green eyes or the way his messy, outgrown hair slightly covered his eyes. Maybe it was the fact that he was the first boy she had seen in two years or perhaps it was just the subconscious desperation from being alone for so long. As Five stood a few steps away from Octavia she was able to discern that he was hardly taller than herself, maybe a few inches give or take.

Five had never taken a particular interest in girls, especially before the events of the apocalypse. He respected them of course, he had two sisters after all, Allison and Vanya. Despite the fact that they could often get on his nerves, he admired his sisters, although not to the same degree as Luther who habitually made heart eyes at Allison across the dinner table. Five didn't understand the appeal of them as he watched Luther practically drool like a puppy over his adopted sister. Perhaps the boy's mind was too preoccupied with other more important things such as mastering his ability to time travel through his spatial jumps.

But when Five's eyes first laid themselves on Octavia up close he felt an unfamiliar sense of intrigue consume him. The boy was quick to disregard it as natural curiosity in response to seeing another human being after the considerable amount of time he spent alone.

Octavia didn't look like any girl Five had known before. She looked like what you'd expect from someone who had survived the apocalypse this long. Her skin and clothes were dirtied. A slightly beaten, oversized green cargo jacket covered most of her young yet malnourished physique. Her ashy blonde hair was pulled back into two braids that hung next to her neck and effectively kept it out of her face.

What surprised Five the most about her however, was the way her lips had suddenly curled into a laugh, a bubbly girlish laugh which was unlike anything Five had ever heard before.

"I really am sorry!" She spoke between a gentle laugh which made Five's ears flush under the aviator helmet he wore.

"I haven't exactly mastered the whole 'levitating your captors' trick yet." She continued.

"Yeah, I'd say you don't quite have it down yet," Five responds with a scoff, raising a brow as he looks at her hands which she was unknowingly flexing and contracting. This was a common mannerism of Octavia's which occurred after she manifested her powers, it was a way to release the built up energy that resided in her palms once she conjured a forcefield.

"How did you do that...?" Five asked, his voice more docile now. There was no residue of impertinence, his question was sincere.

"The 'bubble' thing?" Octavia replied playfully, recycling his little insult from earlier.

"Yeah." He said dryly.

"I've always been able to do it, ever since I can remember." She replied honestly.

"When's your birthday?" Five asked suddenly, the question puzzled Octavia immensely as she tried to determine the relevance of his question. Five however was stunned by the occurrence of finding someone else with a supernatural ability outside of his siblings. As the boy eyed her appearance he realised that she had to be no older that himself, unless she had coincidentally time travelled to the future, which he highly doubted, this girl must have been born years after October 1st, 1989. "Why? Do you want to know my star sign?" Octavia teased, she tried to find the humour in his abrupt and seemingly random question.

"Answer me damn it, when were you born?!" His voice was stern and Octavia was even more confused by his bizarre infatuation with her birthday.

"Jesus fine! It's June 20th 2007." She caved just to shut him up.

"Shit..." Five muttered to himself, almost in disbelief. There was no conceivable way that Octavia could have been one of the forty three supernatural children which Five himself was a part of. She was technically born eighteen years before him, so the chance of meeting someone who also had supernatural abilities was next to impossible, or so he believed.

"So you were... you were young when this all happened, huh?" He spoke up, trying to swiftly redirect the conversation.

"Yeah. I was twelve." Octavia confirmed and Five is painfully quiet, his eyes still examining her with an intense precision like that of a scientist, "What about you?" she asked softly.

"Thirteen." He admitted.

"Only a year older, huh?" Octavia concluded, and Five mentally winced at the complicated situation. Hypothetically yes, he was only one year older than the girl in front of him, however, he was also born almost two decades before her. This was such a mind fuck for Five.

"I guess you could say that." Five shrugged, trying to deflect the possibility of this conversation going any further.

"So you're fifteen?" Clearly his attempt didn't work.

"Correct. Which makes you fourteen now?" Five indulged her.

"Also correct." Octavia shot back and Five had to bite back a small smirk at her sharpness.

"You know, you interrogated me about my name so I think it's only fair that I ask yours." Five figured that he might as-well be polite and ask the name of the bubble conjuring girl who both mildly irritated and intrigued him.

"Octavia." She declared and Five felt his stomach tighten at each syllable that left her mouth. It was an uncommon name, Five certainly couldn't talk when it cam to abstract names but something about Octavia sounded so eloquent, almost old fashioned even. Although he didn't see much of the future as he jumped forward in time he assumed that it was defiantly not a common baby name for someone born in 2007.

"I would say it's a pleasure to meet you Octavia, but these aren't exactly the most pleasurable of circumstances." He said, the formality and authenticity of his voice made Octavia avert her gaze from his own, almost shyly.

"It certainly isn't..." She agreed.

There was a prominent silence between them until Octavia spoke up.

"Sorry for trapping you by the way. I should have known you weren't a fan of bubbles." Five was caught off guard by her genuine apology.

He then replayed the past few minutes in an attempt to put it into perspective, and in all fairness, he was the one with the hunting rifle strapped to him.

However, as Five thought to himself a mischievous idea weaved its way into his mind. He was ready to even the playing field between them.

"It's fine, those were just your flight or fight instincts. Like how mine would be something like this if you didn't trap me first..." ​​Before Octavia could even respond to Five's cryptic response, he suddenly erupted into blue light before her.

He shifts in a split second. Instead of being several feet in front of her he was now only mere inches away. Five looked rather satisfied with himself, a cheshire grin dripping from his face as he watched Octavia's face morph from shock to that of confusion.

"Holy shit!" The girl jumped back in sudden surprise at his sudden manifestation. She stumbled backwards onto her rear, she hit the rubble covered ground and watched as Five let out a small but genuine laugh at her reaction. The boy had missed the dramatic reactions of surprise which he gained from people whenever he used his power. He took a small step closer as he stands over her, looking down with a dry smirk.

"Not feeling so intimidating now, are you?" Octavia watched in disbelief as he extended a hand out to help her up off of her ass. She takes it gratefully although she should have been mad at his little prank, she was fascinated by his own supernatural ability. Five lifted her back to her feet and was slightly stunned at the feeling of another humans skin gracing his own.

Although Five wore a battered pair of fingerless gloves he could feel Octavia's skin against his own, she was warm to his touch. He noticed the way her fingers clasped around his as he helped her to her feet. He admired the callouses which she had evidently earned from surviving this long by herself.

"So you're like me?" She asked and Five retracted his hand, the lingering feeling of her skin on his was plaguing him still despite the loss of contact.

"More or less." He said bluntly, not wishing to elaborate more.

"Wow, sorry." Octavia said shakily, still trying to process everything. "I'm just a little shocked, my whole life my parents told me that I wasn't like other kids and that nobody could know about my ability. But here you are..."

"Alive and breathing," Five said smugly.

"Wait. if you can teleport... Why didn't you just teleport out of my force field?" She asked, smirking slightly as she watched Five roll his eyes.

"You didn't think I tried that, smart ass? It seems you have complete control of the energy in your little bubble, including that of your captors, meaning I was rendered powerless." he retorted "and I don't teleport, that's such an amateur word for something so technical! I prefer to call it spatial jumps, it's the precise manipulation and calculation of spatiotemporal boundaries which I can manoeuvre to get from point A to B-"

"Wow. Nerd alert." Octavia can't help but scoff in amusement at his scientific explanation of his powers. She then proceeded to laugh even harder at the way his eyes squinted in irritation at her reaction.

"You little shit..." He replied at her display of immaturity.

"So, Five, how have you made it this far?" Octavia felt his anger brewing and quickly changed the topic of conversation and gestured to him, referring to his well equipped getup.

He crossed his arms over his chest and gave a small shrug, turning his gaze back to her.

"I just... did," He responds, unbothered with providing anything more.

"I just did." Octavia mocked his ambiguous response, changing the pitch of her voice to sound more serious and stoic, like Five. She felt his eyes glare daggers at hers in response to the childlike mimicry.

He stepped forward now, looking even more annoyed than before. Nobody had tested Five like this, not since his youth when his siblings were still around.

"Watch it." He warned in his typical dry tone which Octavia was starting to grow acquainted with the more he spoke.

As Five stepped forward Octavia quickly manifested her power again, a rectangular shield emerged just in front of the boy as he began to walk towards her.

"Or what?" She said as he walked straight into the shield. The scene before her had reminded Octavia of those embarrassing moments when you would accidentally walk straight into a glass sliding door.

"Oof-" Five grunted as he walked face-first into the force field, nearly toppling backward at the unexpected collision. He stumbled backwards several steps, rubbing the centre of his face where he just collided right into her shield. He looked back at Octavia, a somewhat annoyed but less menacing glare was painted in his green eyes.

"That wasn't funny." He mumbled through gritted teeth.

"Oh come on, that was pretty funny to me." Octavia deactivated the forcefield and she held her stomach as a deep genuine laugh left her lips. It was probably the hardest Octavia had ever laughed during her whole two years of being stuck in the apocalypse alone.

She didn't notice it then but Five's expression had softened for a fraction of a second as she laughed, the reverberation of her voice had filled the otherwise barren space.

And there it was again, that disgustingly unrecognisable feeling that consumed the deepest pits of Five's stomach.

Her laughter had stood out the most to Five, stunning him slightly although he would never admit it in that moment. Octavia's voice was bright and melodic, it didn't irritate him in the same way that Klaus's laughter had when he stole from Allisons wardrobe and proceeded to be chased by her through the mansion, taunting Allison with her favourite skirt. But now, the apocalypse for himself had been characterised by the sound of despair, from the burning debris to the deafening silence.

Octavia's laughter juxtaposed everything else desolate and decrepit which he had become accustomed to hearing after all this time. It was so full of life.

Five then understood why people often referred to others' laughs as being infectious. Octavia's laughter had ignited something, this unfamiliar warmth and queasiness started in his abdomen and soon expanded out into his bones and through to his skin. He felt it everywhere and he hated it. Was this just a symptom of the adrenaline? it had to be.

Five quickly broke away from his thoughts and returned to his traditional, irritated demeanor.

"Oh, you think this is funny?" He asked, taking another step towards her again. A small part of him knew he'd probably walk into another force field again, but he was a little too mad to care right now.

"Hey, give me a break. You're the first person I've seen in how long... like what... two years?" Octavia asked, her laughter subsiding and Five finally felt like he could somewhat relax.

"Have you been by yourself for two years?" Five was curious at her revelation, eager to know if she too had spent the last two years in solitude.

"Yeah. Since day one." Octavia explained. Five noticed a distant look which painted her eyes as if she was recalling the first day she had realised she was alone in this concrete hells-cape.

"And you've made it this far?" Five asked softly and he mentally cringed at how patronising he sounded, he didn't mean for his question to sound that why. The truth was Five was incredibly impressed that she had endured two whole years by herself, finding enough food, water, shelter and even fighting off sickness.

Surviving an apocalypse was no easy feat, Five knew that all too well.

"What? Do you not think that me and my bubbles could have lasted this long?" Five was silent for a moment. Of course he didn't think that, in actuality her power would be incredibly resourceful for the conditions the both of them found themselves in. Five struggled to articulate a defensive statement to her teasing but Octavia spoke up again before he could formulate anything worth saying.

"Do you have a group or something?" She asked and Five subconsciously thanked her for changing the topic.

"No. I'm alone." He admitted.

"Well, I guess that makes two of us." Octavia crossed her arms over her chest before she spoke again, "Your powers.. Are they the reason you survived the initial impact too?"

"Yes." Five looked down at the ground as he answered. He wasn't technically lying, he had survived the destructive impact of whatever ended the world because he had spatial jumped too far into the future. That could theoretically be interpreted as him using his powers to survive the mass extinction of all of humanity, right?

He just simply twisted the truth, that's all. Besides, there was no way Octavia would know if he was lying or not.

"You're a boy of few words, Cinco." She retorted and Five shot his gaze back up towards her.

"God- please don't call me that." Five groaned. The nickname not only irritated him but it was the very title his brother, Diego used to call him and hearing it fall from Octavia's lips was painfully nostalgic.

"Can you blame me?" Octavia shrugged and Five clicked his tongue.

"So... what were you doing out here?" She asked, gesturing to the mountain of concrete behind him.

"Looking for food, what else?" Five explained, his voice straightforward and apathetic.

"Fair enough, we all have to eat. Although I don't think you're gonna find much in that pile of concrete." Octavia wasn't judging the boy for his attempt at searching for resources, more so where he was looking. The landscape before them was nothing but grey desolate rubble.

"Well, I can't exactly afford to be picky, can I?" Five rationalised.

"Touché." She said in an approving tone.

Five didn't exactly know how he should continue the conversation as an elongated silence is exchanged between the two of them. Octavia tried to look anywhere but Five's piercing green gaze as the absence of noise consumed them. Although Octavia had been weary to the boy as a potential threat, she couldn't find it in herself to depart from him so quickly. As for Five, he couldn't extract or define the unknown inquisitiveness that overwhelmed his thoughts. He was standing before another living, breathing human and he couldn't quite believe it, these weren't the rotting bodies he had found buried under the remnants of the city.

Five did not want to depart from her presence so quickly, and he hated it.

"Hey.. I have some baked beans I found not too long ago, you're more than welcome to have some. If you want, that is?" Octavia offered and Five had to replay her voice in his head to ensure what he was hearing was correct.

"You're seriously willing to share your food with me during the apocalypse?" He pointed to himself, his head tilted in disbelief. Was this girl actually offering her own food to him despite trapping him in a bubble only mere moments ago?

"Look, do you want food or not?" Five panicked at her question, like she was threatening to take away the prospect of food so quickly.

"Yes." He said sharply, not caring how desperate he sounded in that second. However, Five felt his face begin to grow warm again when Octavia let out a small giggle at his eagerness.

He despised how easily she could get under his skin.

"Okay, just promise not to murder me on our walk back to mine?" She began to adjust the backpack she had resting on her shoulders and Five took that as the cue that they were leaving.

"If I wanted you to, you would be dead already." Five said proudly. Although his words were grim they carried a weight of truth to them, he probably could have killed Octavia instantly once she freed him from her bubble, but why would he want to do that? Not when he had been alone for so long already.

Even if Octavia was incredibly infuriating there was something about her wit and charm that Five found slightly familiar, somewhat comforting even.

"That's reassuring." She said sarcastically.

"I promise I won't try anything. Cross my heart" Five said, sounding so sincere that it was almost jarring to Octavia.

"Hope to die?" She asked warningly. Five raised a brow at her childish question that he believed to only exist on the school yard.

"You're hilarious. But yeah, cross my heart, I won't kill you. I promise." He shoved his hands in his pockets as they began to walk with Octavia leading the way.

"Watch out, I might just have to bubble you again if you try anything." Octavia held out her hands playfully mimicking how she would manifest her powers. Five rolled his eyes and subdued a small smirk that formed on his face.

"Hey, I always keep my word!" He was almost offended at her skepticism, however he didn't blame her, they were still strangers.

"I'm holding you to it, Five." She replied, looking back to face Five, throwing him a small smile.

[storiesofsung]

Yuu OC - Mulan ⚔️

Pt1 An interesting concept

I’ve always been curious about the direction that TWST could go in regards to MC being a girl.

One of my favorite examples of this being this fic by DuckInSuits on Ao3

Now this inspired me to watch Mulan because it is one of the most famous “girl disguised as boy” story (other than OHSHC) that I know of.

Since literally almost everyone is twisted off someone (idk who Jack is tho) +the Disney references that make me cringe sometimes just because I know the existence of Disney, why not make the MC also twisted off something?

(lol Grim as Mushu tho imagine)

I just feel like the in canon MC does seem like the type of person to kind of work hard with what ingenuity they have since they live in a worn down building and pass classes they have zero prior knowledge on.

And they do kinda use their brains to figure out shit, especially with the overblots !!

Idk i just think it would be an interesting dynamic to work through

None of that liar arc tho, that usually stretches on too long but like… yk

I really enjoyed the fic because it made us connect with Cater (and I believe Ruggie?) in ways the normal canon didn’t explore. It made me empathize with them and actually be invested in their relationship with the MC. And I like how it shows just slice of life stuff like MC making pancakes in Ramshackle dorm/needing feminine pads.

Moments like these really give us a moment to stop and breathe to notice the story’s surroundings while making it believable and lived in. It balances out action and pure dipshitness.

Pt2 “Also I really like Mulans songs”

Honor to us all + Reflection

in regards to this while listening to Honor to us All, it actually made me think of a believable motivation for my said OC, she ran away because she didn’t want to get married, and didn’t want to pretend to be someone else just for her parents (and by extension society) to accept her

Now I know this motivation is more selfish than not wanting your elderly father to fight in a war but remember TWST characters ≠ their twisted counterparts. (Ex. Rollo is less pure evil than Frollo). And I think this could be an interesting motivation since her journey going to TWST could make the MC realize her actions and make her decide whether she did was right or wrong (=character development)

A Girl Worth Fighting For

You cannot make me believe every single man in an all boys school is 100% feminism core.

I think that’s where a girl worth fighting for could come in. (Deuce not included he is a feminist) but the 1st year friend group being a lil (while unknowingly) sexist in regards to how they see a female romantic interest, then later drinking respect women juice after realizing the strongest (they fought 6 overblots stfu yes they are) one in their fg is in fact a woman (and later apologizing to her lol)

Make a Man out of You

It’s self explanatory based on what I said earlier but I’m not sure who could be Shang in this song 😭😭. Personality based it’s either Vil or Riddle, Physically it’s Leona (he would not give a shit other wise), unless it’s for spelldrive)

Summary: Overall this is more of a Yuu not based on having a love interest, but as a character based on an icon (✨).

This has just been on my mind for a bit about an AU that I do not have the skills to write about l…but it’s for all you girlies who prefer pants over skirts and generally dont like to be categorized as feminine 🔥

[obislittleone]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 1

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: The Hunger Games reaping. Canon typical angst. Reader has a speech impediment.

Chapter Summary: Lukas Artanhour is your best friend since childhood who makes the worst decision of his life when he volunteers as tribute for the 71st annual hunger games... Luckily, he won't be going alone, and you didn't even have to volunteer.

Word Count: 2.8k

Don't be detered by the OC in this chapter, he is just someone I made up to make the hunger games more emotional of an event 🙃

The representative from the Capitol being the same every year was almost a comforting sort of repetition through the years, but compared to the annual tradition it surrounded, you were hardly relaxed at seeing him make his dazzling appearance. A new outfit every year, made from the finest fabrics and silks that eight had to offer… And you wore the same green top and skirt. At least this year there were seashells. 

“Good afternoon, District Four!” His shout of happiness was hardly felt by any who stood here in this gathering. “There’s nothing like being here, amongst the beautiful waters and sandy beaches.”

It’s cold and windy down by the docks, with the sand getting kicked up from time to time. District Four is one of the most beautiful places in all of Panem, and it’s known, as all districts are, for its main production to the Capitol. Fish. 

The people here are wealthier than most in the districts, a close third in rank to both one and two, who reign supremely amongst the favorites. The Hunger Games have obviously played a serious part in all of that. Four being a career district meant that the Capitol goers were far more likely to invest. Careers are the favorites, no matter which district they come from. 

The reaping is today, and you don’t want to think about it. It is why you arrive at your work station an hour before you need to be there. You’ve spent years of your life down here by the docks, whether it was waiting for your father’s boat to return, or your friend to bring you the boxes that needed to be loaded onto Capitol trucks. You’re a mover, it’s your job. It doesn’t pay well, because the real money is in fishing, but you wouldn’t dare go out on a boat. 

“You’re early,” Lukas nearly spooks you, smiling after watching you jump from surprise. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s r-reaping day. I couldn’t s-sleep.”

He was used to the skip and stutter of your words, un-phasing him as you spoke each one. 

“I get it. My mom keeps hounding me about it. Every year I grow taller, stronger, she tells me I could win,” he sat down next to you in the sand, handing you a shell he found on his way here. “Another for the collection.”

“Thanks,” you took it gratefully, placing it in your pocket for safekeeping until later. You journeyed back to his previous words, what he meant by them. “Does your mother w-wish you’d gone through the career program?”

He shrugged, looking out into the sea, his mind just as full of indecent thoughts as yours. 

“I’m not sure what she wants. Ever since dad died she’s just been… different.”

“My parents have s-said, if it ever gets t-too bad, you c-can always stay with us.”

He nods, his appreciation shown through a single sideways glance. He knows he has places to go, he knows that there are others that are willing to treat him as a son should be treated, but he wants his own mother to do it. He longs for the woman she once was, and hopes if he can make her proud enough, maybe she will be that way again. 

“I’ll think about it,” he said, but he’d been saying that for the past year. 

So far, you’d learned she’d been hitting him, been yelling and screaming about how he would never measure up to his father. You never saw these interactions of course, because if you had you may have broken down for him, your friend of eleven years. In school, he was the only one who would talk to you, the only person who ever gave a damn about the girl with the stutter. He defended you when they made fun of you left and right, for nearly everything they thought was wrong with you.

“You s-shouldn’t listen to her,” you shook your head, the waves crashing on the shoreline several yards down. It was the only thing that would remain peaceful about today, when later on two children would be hauled off and expected to fight or die. “She isn’t in her r-right mind anymore.”

“I know that.” 

He agrees, he knows. He is well aware that her mind slipped maybe even before her husband died. She had been driving him to the long hours that he’d worked, and eventually made him work out on a ship during a storm. The boat sinking was just fan to the flame of her deteriorating mental state. 

He picked up a rock from the sand a few feet over, standing up and tossing it to skip over the water before it began to wash on the shore. He gave you a hand to your feet, pulling you up until you were steady. 

“Boat leaves in a few minutes, I’ll see you when we get back,” he said, turning on his heel in the sand. You nodded at him before he walked off, into the working hours of the day. You shouldn’t even be here for another hour. You know that they’ll be gone for two or more and you don’t need that long to prep the boxes. But you can’t sleep. 

-

Lukas returned to the docks with a much better mindset. The water always made him feel serene. He came to land, lugging the giant nets tied together to keep the fish from falling out. Today’s catch was good as any other, and the songs the boys sang on board nearly made him forget everything else. 

“Salmon are catching like crazy this time of year,” he muttered, meeting you halfway to help you untie the knots and start packing the boxes. “Thinking I might sneak one home if there’s extra. You probably can, too.”

“I’ll t-try. My pa could use s-something more to eat.”

He weeded through all the skimpy ones, pulling the biggest catches out first and laying them sideways in the boxes, filling the middles with ice before adding another layer. It was the same thing everyday, but he never tired of it. He was content to live the life of a district four fisherman, and he was good at it. 

“How’s his arm doing?” He asked, since you’d brought up your father. 

He’d broken it in a rigging accident about two months ago, and the slow healing process was not doing your family any favors. You’d been hungry several times, so obviously extreme measures had to be taken. You won’t think about that right now, though.

“Not any better, n-not any worse.” The fish box was nearly packed, but you paused to think for a moment. “Maybe I s-should try and catch. It pays a lot m-more, and we could use the money.”

He grabbed you by the shoulder and turned you to face him. 

“You’d be scared to death. If your family needs some money, I can help out. It’s the least I can do when they offer me free lodging,” he half joked, completely serious in all aspects about the help with financial assistance. 

“Lodging that y-you’ve never taken.”

“Listen, I’m happy to help if you need me to. Especially with your brother, now,” he mentioned, making you think about the sweet little sleeping face you’d passed by on the way out of your home. Your baby brother, born not a year ago. You hated the idea of him growing up hungry, or having to start work early in his life like you did. 

“Well, t-thank you. I’ll think about it.”

He shook his head, seeing as how you quoted him from all the times your family offered him help before. 

He waved you off when you finished stacking the prepared boxes onto your slab dolly, tilting it back and beginning to push it towards the truck that pulled in not too long ago. It was a steep climb, up the ramp from the docks and onto the street, but it made you quite strong over the years. That and all the heavy lifting, becoming easier with every twenty by thirty of fish. 

Lukas would be taking off early today, as would most of the other boys of age. You would be heading home after loading this shipment as it were. You had to shower, had to clean up your hair and skin and make yourself presentable for the reaping. 

You opened the back of the truck, tossing the boxes up one at a time, before climbing into it and stacking them neatly in one of the four corners. You always managed to obtain a single splinter from every shipment loaded, but luckily today’s wasn't too bad, you could probably dig it out with a small pin. 

Later in the day, your mother gave you a solemn smile as you walked out the door, having just been readied and dressed in your best clothes. Even in a wealthier district, they still had mended holes in the bottom of your skirt. That’s the sad thing about every district. Even amongst the wealthier ones, there’s still poverty that simply cannot be helped. The Capitol's greed and thirst for luxury, needing every little thing that life has to offer at their beck and call. You can’t even imagine what it’s like in places like eight or twelve. Places where food is not the primary cultivation of the people. 

It was light green, your outfit. It had white seashells on the waist of the top, and a few along the edge of the skirt as well. They hadn’t always been there, but you insisted they should be. You didn’t really have much else of a use for all the shells you stole from the sands of the shoreline. You hated wearing the same outfit to this single event every year. You hardly wore it any other time, which made a distaste for it grow every time it came out of your closet. 

The way your mother did your hair was simple. A single french braid down the back of your head, tied off with a light green ribbon to match everything else. She watched how it fell a bit looser with every step you took, making your way across the streets and into the city’s center. It’s your last year, and having avoided every year before, you know you should feel a semblance of relief, but you don’t. 

Your mother waits for the peacekeeper behind a stand to check your name off a list before she parts with you, hugging you tightly one last time and allowing you to kiss the head of the baby on her hip. He’s primarily the reason you remain so nervous. Even if your name doesn’t get called, his could be, someday.

You line up in an open space, next to the last girl that checked in. She wasn’t in your row last year, you would have remembered her. She was pretty, with blue eyes and dark raven hair. Her skin was tanned like most in four, but had a certain glow about it. She’s too pretty to be reaped, you thought. It didn’t make a difference, though. As you stared head on to the bowl on the stage, centered in front of the girl’s side, you got tense. Your name is in there six times this year. That’s three more than last year, and five more than the year before. 

Someone could still volunteer. But the career program had not made mention of producing a female tribute this year. It all depended on the luck of today’s draw. For all you knew, your name would be surpassed by someone else. There were other poverty stricken areas in four besides yours, and it made sense that somebody else could have been hungry enough to outgo you. 

You looked around to the boy's side. Lukas was there, and further up in the rows. He must have gotten here quickly after leaving the docks. His face was sullen, and something had changed, but you were unsure of what it was. When he looked around, you almost thought he’d been looking for somebody, but his expression told a far different story. 

The last few children in the line were filing in, and the musical fanfare blasted through the speakers by the stage. You were grateful not to be so close to those this year. 

The representative from the Capitol being the same every year was almost a comforting sort of repetition through the years, but compared to the annual tradition it surrounded, you were hardly relaxed at seeing him make his dazzling appearance. A new outfit every year, made from the finest fabrics and silks that eight had to offer… And you wore the same green top and skirt. At least this year there were seashells. 

“Good afternoon, District Four!” His shout of happiness was hardly felt by any who stood here in this gathering. “There’s nothing like being here, amongst the beautiful waters and sandy beaches.”

His rabble was boring, and nearly the same as it was last time. The anticipation was killing just about every girl and boy in this crowd, knowing there were no careers at the ready this year. It was always easier to rest at night while knowing if your name was called, another courageous youngster would step in to take your place. 

“I’m so excited to be back and reaping this year’s tributes for the 71st annual Hunger Games!” 

There was a surge of excitement coming from the sidelines, and it was only now that you looked past the blockades to see that there were actual Capitol civilians standing there this year. How nice, some onlookers for when an innocent child gets sent away to their death. Absolutely wonderful. You looked on past them, towards the victors standing close by. They seemed anxious as well, the old woman holding one fist to her mouth while the other clutched her chest. She rocked back and forth on her heels, and had to take a step every few seconds to keep from becoming too restless. The young man was stiff, his arms behind his back and every muscle in his body tense as a board. His eyeline never left the bowls on the stage. They went through this once, too.

When you refocused on the man at the microphone, your heart beat rapidly. He was approaching the boy’s side of the stage. 

After a small flourish of his hand, the Capitol rep stuck his hand into the glass, two papers in his hand before he dropped one. The dropped paper’s namesake got immensely lucky this year. 

“Harley Miggsen,” he read the paper, but before the peacekeepers had a shot at cornering the poor fourteen year old kid, with his eyes wide in horror, another voice spoke up. 

“I volunteer.” 

Your head snapped to Lukas, his hand raised high in the air. Murmurs started almost immediately about how everyone thought there weren’t any careers prepared. They spoke softly and wondered if there would be a career for the girls, too. Lukas isn’t a career, why would he do this?

“I… guess we have a volunteer,” the man at the mic clapped his hand, watching the young man getting ushered up the stairs to stand beside him on the stage. “What’s your name, son?” 

“Lukas Artanhour, sir.”

“Lukas Artanhour, everyone!” He raised his hand as to signal applause from the capitol guests, and they cheered, happy to see that there was now a potential victor as opposed to that poor boy from before. “Now for the ladies.”

You spared a glance at the victors once more, and they looked even more on edge for this pick than the last. Female victors were obviously more rare in every district, so getting a decent tribute that wouldn’t die right away was probably preferable. You couldn’t imagine all the people they’ve tried and failed to save over the years. The young man won only six years ago, but with no other victors since, that means he’s gone through twelve tributes. All dead, all gone. 

Your mind had been momentarily distracted, or at least it had been until the next name came over the loudspeakers. 

“Mercedes Blythe.” 

It almost didn’t register. 

It almost went in one ear and out the other.

It almost was paid no mind or attention…

But that is your name, and you’ve heard it said a million times since you were a baby. Not once did it ever sound like that, though. 

You stood still until you realized there were peacekeepers on their way to grab you. 

It was slow, the way you took steady steps from your row towards the stage. You couldn’t be rushed even if they tried to make you. You could only look at the ground. You didn’t want to chance looking up and seeing your mother past the blockades. God only knows what she’s thinking and feeling right now. After everything bad happens to a family, the mother of that family should not have to wonder whether her child will live or be killed in an arena. 

You finally looked up when you got to the stairs, meeting Lukas’ eyes first, and seeing they were sad and full of pity. You stood beside the Capitol rep on the other side, allowing him to raise your hands together while the tears finally welled up in your eyes. The delay in your mind was the only one to blame for that. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, district four’s tributes!”

-

Tags (open):

[selkra-souza]

Consider this a rough introduction to my inner world paracosm lore. I don't quite have a name for it yet.

It's personal inner world based paracosm made of imagination, metaphors, symbolism and any place I've seen in my dreams. It focuses primarily on my personified emotions and how they react to the "outer world" of my day-to-day life outside my mind, with some adventures within the inner world while I'm asleep.

It all started once upon a time a long time ago (about 3 years ago). I was sitting at my desk at home studying a powerpoint for my child development class in university, a chapter on emotional development, bored out of my mind. The powerpoint had a slide with a JPEG of the cast of emotion characters from Pixar's film Inside Out (because every good powerpoint slide has to have a relevant JPEG on it), and I thought to myself upon seeing it "Yeah rewatching that movie would be more fun than reading this". So I proceeded to get distracted doodling what I imaged to be my own version of these emotion characters for myself (bottom of post), and since then they're been popping again and again in my mind.

Most of the my view of the inner world takes place in the castle-like office and home of my personified emotions, and predictably, they spend most of the day on post at a console managing my feelings throughout the day. When I'm asleep or daydreaming, they're open to other things like hobbies or going outside their home to refresh or explore. There's six base emotion characters, but more complex emotions called dyads and triads can be formed via fusion, as inspired by Plutchnik's emotional theory (and Steven Universe if I'm being honest).

Besides them, there's other notable characters, so far there's my ear worm who been playing music non-stop in my head for over ten years :v

I'm incredibly invested in this paracosm as of late and it's mostly because (well, besides it being fun) I've found that it's been a pretty great emotional regulation tool. Nowadays pretty much any significant feeling I have gets filtered through visualizing it via my emotion OCs and it's made me a more self aware person. And a just few months ago I found out that doing this kind of thing counts somewhat as internal family systems therapy. I'm pretty excited to share more about it :)

[kimiko24-art]

Pesche Mistro/Ercolani (peaches) JJBA OC (more AU lore and world building)

Pesche is yet another Vento Aureo oc that's apart of my au. His first name means peaches in Italian! He's currently 24, his birthday is November 23rd~ Also that isn't his official outfit. I'm still working on his clothing design! I gotta redraw this don't like his face lol

✨STORY✨

✨ Pesche was adopted into the Ercolani family at the age of thirteen. Even though he carries the last name of the family. He is considered more of a family friend than an actual member. After many years of being treated like an outsider. Pesche decided to cut his ties with the Ercolani and start his own career as an mercenary back in his hometown of Naples. It took him two long years to make a name for himself on the streets of Napoli. But once he did, Pesche preformed many jobs for big mafia gangs, including Passione. He was even eventually hired by his own adoptive father, Guilio to protect his adoptive sister Oliva while she was overseas.

SOME INFO

✨Pesche likes spending time alone, but isn't opposed to making friends..though he won't admit it. He's pretty awful at small talk too. Honestly he's just a bit of a tsundere. Pesche considers himself to have no affiliations, and will gladly work for anyone who's willing to pay.

✨Pesche's stand is called "Sneaker Pimps" named after an older band that I like! I don't have any idea for the abilities yet!

OUR RELATIONSHIP

✨We were enemies at first (he was hired to do a job and there was a conflict of interest.) but then our little mishap lead to us developing a friendship after a little while. Though he doesn't seem to want a close friendship especially since I have ties with Passione! But he's always around more or less. I like to tease him a lot~

INFO ABOUT THE ERCOLANI FAMILY

✨A now powerful family, that had their humble beginnings in Southern Naples. In the beginning the Ercolani family had an arrangement with Passione. They had deep ties to the gang and agreed to work together since they both operated out of Southern Naples.

✨The Ercolani would supply funding to Passione for a cut of the total profit made from the drug trade. But after finding out that Passione had been holding back on the family's cut, despite the investment, they had a huge falling out. Which led to a sort of heated rivalry. Eventually after a few years they cut ties and the Ercolani relocated elsewhere.

✨They now own several major business throughout Italy. Mainly in tourism. They also have control of several popular opera houses in Florence and Rome. For now the two groups are at a sort of truce. Neither ventures on to each others territory. The Ercolani family has roughly 106 members and the head of the family is Guilio Ercolani. He is known for his intense hatred of Passione and love of opera.

-

(The family's name is a variation of Ercolano (Italian: [erkoˈlaːno]) is a town and comune in the Metropolitan City of Naples, Campania of Southern Italy. From the personal name Ercolano originally an adjectival derivative (meaning 'Herculean') of Hercules.)

[99corentine]

How To Write Good by Corentine

THE DRAFTING PROCESS, PART 1/2

Hello, people were interested in some writing tips by me so I, uh, sort of kind of cranked out a writing guide in a few hours. I’m not sure if this will be a very comprehensive or helpful guide but let’s give it a try!

⭐ Starting disclaimers: Please remember as with all things that my method is not necessarily the best method, everyone is different and over time you’ll find your own process.

I write romance, so my advice is skewed towards writing that and I’m not sure how helpful it will be for gen fic. I publish fanfic chapter by chapter to AO3 so it’s also skewed to someone doing the same, not someone writing a full novel they want to get published. 

I’m going to be using GOL HAH DOV (GHD) for writing examples because, well, it’s a finished longfic so it’s as good a reference as any, but obviously GHD is not everyone’s cup of tea. I’ll also occasionally reference Tooth for a Tooth (T4T) which apologies is very far from finished, but the Baldur’s Gate 3 fandom is vastly different to the Skyrim one, so it’s useful to cross-compare them.

Also worth bearing in mind: I have been writing fanfiction since I was about 13, and I’m now 33. That’s 20 years of experience. Do you know what I wrote when I was 13? Hot garbage. Writing is a learned skill that, much like playing a musical instrument or learning literally any other craft, you must put time and effort into to improve.

However although ‘practice makes perfect’ is fundamentally true, that’s also kind of lame advice. So here is what I personally do, which may be helpful in figuring out what you want to do. 

STEP ONE: YOU NEED AN IDEA FIRST DUMMY

Think of a fic idea. Probably you have lots of vague ideas. As I’m trying to turn something from a daydream into an actual writing project, I tend to ask myself these questions:

⭐Who is it about?⭐

Pick your pairing, romantic or otherwise. Think about what you like about the character and what traits you want to emphasise in your writing. If you’re writing about fan character x fan character, what makes them go well together? What causes tension between them?

If you’re writing fan character x original character, do remember that your readers are here for the fan character, not for your OC. There is no getting around this, your OC is not what brings people to the fic. GHD’s Chrysanthe was largely intended as a blank slate, quite literally, I made him an amnesiac because the point of the story was Miraak not Chrysanthe. 

Over time I was able to shape him into something more distinctive (softly-spoken, stoic, paladin-like, secret tricksy side only Miraak brings out, gets more dragon-like as the story progresses) but that was a gradual thing. Your readers will hopefully come to love your OC as you do, but it takes time for them to get invested. I’m very grateful that people did come to root for Chrysanthe – but make no mistake, if the story had no Miraak in it, people wouldn’t be reading it. Your OC is always a vehicle for the fan character.

⭐What are the overarching themes of the story?⭐

A cohesive story has a theme that repeats throughout, and picking one early on will let you write with that theme in mind. As an example, the themes of GHD are:

Soulmates / we were destined to meet each other

There’s no-one else like me / you and I are the only real ones here

One’s a hero one’s a villain

Zero to hero / hero becomes progressively more badass

Redemption arc but the villain is never fully redeemed – for GHD this turned into the repetition of Miraak’s theme he’ll never be pure but for you he’ll try and later Chrysanthe’s I love you exactly as you are

Your own themes might be something like best friends who don’t realise they’ve been in love this whole time or can’t live with you can’t live without you. Tropes count towards this too, so something like soulmates, Modern Coffee Shop AU, hanahaki, all of that stuff is a story theme.

⭐What does this fic do that other fics like it don’t?⭐

GOL HAH DOV was sort of easy mode in this regard because there aren’t many fics featuring Miraak at all, so writing anything was already doing something different. Of those existing fics, I wanted to see more where Miraak was evil and scary, and you should be the change you want to see in the world (of fanfic), so I decided to write it myself. I get a lot of comments on Miraak’s personality, so I assume this is mostly what makes GHD stand out!

I’ll use T4T as a contrasting example, because Skyrim is old and Miraak is niche, but Baldur’s Gate 3 is new/popular and Astarion is a fan favourite. That means there’s a veritable sea of fic about him, so what can you write that will stand out from the many, many other fics out there? It doesn’t have to be the only one of its kind or anything, but it does need to have something special about it.

You’ll want to either go for a strong theme or trope (i.e. soulmates, magical spell curse, we’re both monsters), or change the setting (canon divergence, ‘what if X happened instead?’, or even outright alternate universe and a brand new plot). Personally, I choose to follow the source material but go off-script. I gotta say, nothing makes me sadder than seeing plot and dialogue lifted straight from a game with zero changes made to it. That’s a personal preference obviously, but I think if you write a fic it should strive to do something different to the rest.

⭐Do I have enough enthusiasm to finish it?⭐

This is more applicable to longfic, but you really need to be in love with a story to see it through to the end. Be realistic with yourself, how much free time and energy you have – if you start it, do you think you can finish it?

I have a whole planning process (detailed later) and sometimes I start planning out an idea just to realise I don’t really have the enthusiasm to actually write the whole thing. This is fine! Even just planning is still a writing exercise, and it might spark some different ideas.

Once you have your idea, and you’re confident you’re going to actually write it… then for the love of all that is holy, do not share it in detail with anyone. You can pitch an idea to see if people will be interested but if you go into specifics about story events or certain scenes? You basically get the endorphins from having ‘created’ it, only you haven’t actually created it, and now you’ve had the chemical pay-off you probably never will. Keep your ideas to yourself until you’ve actually written them.

STEP TWO: WRITE THAT DOWN

In terms of writing software, I use Scrivener, which is a paid-for software but is not subscription based (I wouldn’t pay continually for software unless I was reliably writing every day, and sometimes I go ages without being in the mood to write). Scriv’s word processor isn’t the most intuitive thing, but I like its organisation features. This is what a work in progress looks like for me:

That’s essentially a folder (the story) containing a bunch of word documents (the chapters). You could break it down even further and have a chapter folder with each document being individual scenes, then stitch it together later - if writing is a daunting process for you, it’s useful to break it down into small, manageable chunks. You can do this in other software obviously, I just find Scrivener the most visually pleasing.

Set up your writing document, and let’s get to planning what we’re actually going to write!

...Apparently tumblr has a word limit I've exceeded, so I'll write the next bit separately. Here's PART TWO.

[shysublimecoffee]

Itachi would've been fine to me tbh if like the story just let him be humbled lol. The main issue is that nobody called out Itachi for his actions, except for Itachi himself, which ironically serves to make him seem even more virtuous and flawless. "I understand feeling upset when some people in the fandom community don't use critical thinking. However, imagine investing a lot of time following a story you read since you were a kid. Many people simply follow the story as presented, and can you blame them when the story validates Itachi? I can't really blame them that much when even the writer seems to be bending over backwards to portray the character as a well-meaning hero, like in the case of Itachi." Now, I don't really know how well something like reading a piece of Naruto media can translate to real life but the saying the things we read and watch can influence on how we perceive the world rings true in my opinion because unfortunately some people really do believe in the Uchiha curse b.s and to me reflects a lot when it comes to how marginalized groups are stigmatized like the idea of a group having the curse of hatred inside of them is fucked if you are so set to believe in something based on a fictional group in a piece of media well... it raises questions about how that might influence real-life beliefs and attitudes towards marginalized groups

I think it's important to be at an age where you have developed critical thinking skills to engage with complex narratives like this. Many people are influenced by nostalgia and are such huge fans of certain characters that they are inclined to make elaborate analyses justifying their actions. For example, some might argue that because Itachi was just a kid when he committed certain acts, it excuses his behavior. However, if we start using age or other factors as excuses for heinous actions, where do we draw the line? What other circumstances would you be willing to bend over backwards to justify committing heinous crimes similar to what Itachi did?

Naruto is a bitch. I don't really want to extend to much with this character since I just feel disappointment. I wanted him to do more then he failed. He's become a politician I don't know what else to say lol. So many people say he inspired them how? What did he accomplish besides obtaining Hokage their world is still fucked up man the shinobi system still rotten. I thought this kid would grow up to do something about it but he remained complacent and changed nothing only difference is he's on top. I realized about later that was Sasuke role as an antagonist and it wouldn't make much sense lol there need to being 2 opposing sides but yeah... He was a whole lotta nothing as a protagonist he was cute kid but he grew up to be a dumb fuck who can't figure out why his "dearest friend" is siding against him and became man who can't keep promises.

It makes sense he had a hunger for acknowledgement I'm not discrediting that since he was a child but he wanted validation from everyone that he has such an obsession with his own self-image and how everyone thinks of him that I find it portrayal to be unhealthy. Sasuke at the end was just a checklist a reward at the end of the day that he wanted to gain for his personal goal.

Naruto talk no jutsu is so manipulative to me sometimes that instead of directly confronting Sasuke's ideas or opinions as equals would in a debate or discussion he would indirectly undermined them. He did this by ignoring Sasuke's valid arguments and instead focusing on exploiting Sasuke's emotional vulnerability, particularly his feelings of loneliness and despair stemming from the loss of family. Like his approach to me suggests a tactic to manipulate Sasuke's emotions rather than engaging with his ideas or concerns directly. But, I ain't sure if he's doing this deliberately since I don't know if he's that smart or I'm looking to much closely.

I'd rather ship his character with fucking OC's. I feel like each member of Team 7 are obsessed and want something from the guy but they don't care for Sasuke personally because if they did it would show but they're after him for what they want from him as a goalpost and hey they won.

[miru667]

How do you manage to stay in a fandom for so long? I'm always mario jumping from fandom to fandom every 3-6 months

Oh, so many reasons. I think I've answered this before but in a much more concise way so idk what happened here when I tried to answer again from scratch but uhhh I wrote a lot lol?? Long ramble time. 😂

I found this fandom at a point in my life when I really emotionally needed it, so I got really attached to it. I stayed because of the friends I've made in it and because of the OCs I got invested in, both mine and other people's, and every so often something invigorated my interest like a new roleplay I got to join or new concept art that got discovered.

I'm also just a really dedicated person (for better or worse) and I still have ideas that I want to get out there creatively. I don't get a lot of free time, and I rarely have energy for hobbies after work so my time passes slowly in the sense that I may still be in the middle of appreciating a thing, meanwhile everyone else has already sped through and processed it and moved on.

So I've gotta be really careful about choosing what to spend my limited time and energy on. It sometimes takes me a whole month to draw a piece of art that I'm proud of. It would be a huge waste of my time to spend so much energy on a fandom that after 3 months I think I might not care about anymore.

And like, if it's going to take me a month to draw 1 thing, what am I going to choose? Fanart of a character from a show that I just finished that I might possibly move on from in 3 months? Or art of my darling Audrey OC that I've been developing for years and whom I know will always bring me joy for the rest of my life? It's not a hard choice! Like I'm sure it's obvious by now but I really love my oc. It's gotten to the point that I look for her in every media I consume. I like characters because they remind me of her, and I like plots because they remind me of her. When I watch a movie and end up loving it, I'm not going to be drawing fanart for that movie, I'm more likely going to be drawing Audrey Grace in some way that's consciously or subconsciously inspired by that movie. I'm sure other people with beloved ocs can relate to that, too.

Back to media consumption: I'm constantly watching new things, shows, movies, letsplays, and I'm able to love them just fine, but I never participate in their fandoms (unless you count reblogging fanart as participation. I personally don't). I just don't feel motivated to and I feel like it's unnecessary. I shouldn't need to prove anything. You can appreciate media without engaging in fandom. In fact, I encourage it, because a lot of what I see in fandoms these days is just stressful, at least to me. And I don't want that stress. I'm much happier as a person when I don't have to read other people's opinions, discourse and drama over some show's themes or ships or whatever. I can just quietly revel in my own enjoyment of the show without being tainted by anything else, and my love for it is not any less valid than the person who's livetweeting their loud emotions while watching the same show and putting out fanart 1 hour after every episode. Bless them, though.

And I guess that's mostly what I do these days with the Onceler fandom, too. Appreciating it more quietly these days, I mean. It's just that...I have a fandom related oc so I draw her. And I have friends here so we do stuff together and we reference fandom inside jokes no matter what activity we're doing. If I encounter art that deeply moves me personally, I reblog it, just like I reblog art for other media on my sideblog. When anyone has a fandom history related question, I'm eager to answer because I don't want the past to be misrepresented or misunderstood. And also, since it's been over a decade, this fandom has long ago become my daily normal. I can do whatever I like but I can't really "leave" this fandom unless I delete all my social media and cut off all my online friends. And delete my memories of the past 12 years of my life as well. Just become a completely different person.

So I guess I can reverse the sentiment: I can't relate to people who hop fandoms every 3 to 6 months. 😭 All the power to you, but that's just not the way I happen to live my life, nor the way I engage with the media I consume! The Once-ler fandom was the one exception. It was special.

But who knows, anything can happen in the future. I'm not so proud that I'm purposely blocking myself from looking at other fandoms or anything. I just go with the flow! Right now I'm slowly making my way through jjba, an omori playthrough, a Plague Tale playthrough, and urusei yatsura season 2 (the new anime). Probably nothing will come out of any it except for a bunch of Audrey inspos, but again, who knows. XD I'm also going to an idkhow concert soon, and I've bought merch from their store already. Does that count as participating in a fandom? Maybe not. But now that I think of it, even if I "join" another fandom, it doesn't necessarily mean I'd leave the onceler fandom either, so maybe it wouldn't matter haha.

Thank you for the ask and thank you to anyone who's read my entire answer!

[starbeltconstellation]

HEYYYYY!!!

i hope you’re well ❤️! i just wanted to come on here for a second to express how grateful im currently feeling for your story. i found it on ao3 a couple of days ago (wish i would’ve found it earlier but now i got a nice chunk of chapters to read through and hyper fixate over 😄😄) and i have been obsessed ever since. genuinely, you’ve made my august with this story.

this story feels so special to me. i’m so excited and giddy everytime i open the website back up to continue reading it (mannn i never wanna finish it) and it’s like the best part of my day.

i just wanna say that you’re a mf-ing genius. a. genius.

everytime something happens in the story i genuinely GASP. LIKE OH MY GOSH. im going insane over this fic. (the theories are bubbling inside of my brain about melanie and what’s gonna happen later on, i also love reading about people’s theories too man its so nice to see how invested everybody is cuz girl I AM.)

this story, man, it’s GREAT. it’s not only very well written, which im sure everybody appreciates as the flow is so nice, but it is also exciting, intense and beautiful. every single character had been on point, mischaracterising isn’t in your vocabulary. it’s like you know these lot personally. but anyway, it is a pleasure to read, like i said, VERY exciting and entertaining. i love our girl mel so much, she is so relatable and honestly just so real 😭 her reactions to most things are so valid like, girl same! she’s amazing, i don’t think i’ve ever encountered an OC as interesting and cool and well written as her. her whole storyline is just insane, bless her having all of this pressure and stress on her too lol 😭😭😭 but what can she do ahah, i mean?! the scene with the shopkeeper telling her to go back to her world had me absolutely stunned i was SHAKING. but i do think she made the right choice, she’s so strong.

like despite the fact that she knows all the hell she will have to endure there, she DID chose to stay, which is such a sacrifice. man i just wanna hug her and say thanks (i am not in the star wars universe but …)

everybody else too though, like ahsoka, obi-wan, anakin, the clones, mace, etc.. are also really cool to see the OC interact with, this is such a comfort fic for me, genuinely. it feels like i know them personally through this fr 🥲🥲🥲

i love reading the other’s comments on your story, it’s so nice to see this community form😭 like i’ve found my people LOL

thank you for feeding our star wars and anakin obsessions with your lovely story, i can’t get enough of it i swear im making a playlist for melanie as we speak.

anyhoo, just wanted to let you know how much i love this story and how much i appreciate you putting effort into creating something we can all take comfort in <3 i hope to stay and interact a lot more as i go on about reading the story!

Ahhhhh, oh my goshhh. Thank you so, SOOOO much, my dear little commenter. Haha. 🥺🥹❤️ This message was a big surprise when I first received it (which was a while ago, I know. 😭😅 I’m really sorry for the delay in response. Life gets the best of me at times. I’m trying to catch up on my asks), because at that time, I was still stuck struggling on the final bit of my huge whopper of a chapter that is now FINALLY out. ✊😖 Haha. And I just want you to know that your comment was SO helpful and motivating to me. Like… I’m not even joking. 😭 Your comment and a handful of other loyal readers (like my dear @ensomniaa ! 😌😆❤️) are probably the main reason I was able to trudge through my writer’s block and depression to get out the next chapter. So, just… thank you. 😭❤️❤️❤️❤️ Thank you for taking the time out of your day to write out such a long and in depth comment with such gushing words about my work and about how I’ve been writing the Melakin romance dynamic. It makes me feel like my writing isn’t half bad. Haha.

I always like to take my time responding to comments, because I feel I should always take the time and care to write out a detailed response that isn’t just copy pasted. You all take the time out of your day to comment to me, so it’s only fair I do the same! 🥺💕💕💕 So… my point is… I’m SO sorry this response took so long. 😭 I hope the wait time won’t have discouraged you from messaging again in the future. They truly do bring me such a big smile. And while I might not get to asks or comments immediately—ALL of my reader ducklings WILL eventually see a response. 😭💕❤️ I have made that my life’s goal. Lol.

Now, onto the ask! 😁✨💕 I’ll put the rest under a read more.

I’m soooo happy to hear that you’re so obsessed with my story and that it made your August! 😁✨❤️ Haha, it’s always exciting when I see someone new has stumbled over my fic. And I feel you with that hyper fixation. 😭✊ I’m BEGGING for my brain to give the SW hyper fixation back to me so I can churn out chapters at the speed of sound like when I did first starting this massive project. Lol. 🫠 So far… it’s still not working. But don’t worry! I shall NEVER abandon this story. I swearrrr, this thing will be my magnum opus. 😭✊Loool.

The fact my writing makes you giddy??? 😭 The fact it makes you theorize (which I ADORE when my readers do and ramble in the comments so I can muah-ha-ha to them. 😈😈💕😂) and gasp out loud?? 😭😭 The fact that you ENJOY reading through the different comments and seeing other readers’s theories and reactions?? 😭🥹💕❤️❤️❤️ You are what us writers call a rare GEM, dear reader. 🥺🥹❤️ To not only LEAVE a comment, but also just how you seem to genuinely enjoy commenting/reading other commenters’s thoughts because it feels like a fan community?? (And how SWEET to say I’m a big enough writer to have a little community. 🫠 I’m cryingggg. 😭❤️❤️) The fact you think I’m… a genius?? 🫣🥺😭❤️❤️❤️ (Idk about that, but I’ll put aside my anxiety issues. 😌 It is a lying liar who liessss).

Thank you. Thank you from the very BOTTOM of my heart. Idk what else I can say besides that, because rare reader gems like you keep us starving writers chugging along. 😭✊❤️

I’m SOOO glad you feel like everyone is in character. 😭❤️❤️ I worried about that a LOT. Especially for Anakin and the clones. There’s just a certain way about them that you have to get right, or they become 2-dimensional if you don’t write their little quirks and ticks. And I LOVE getting to explore the clones’s and Mel’s sibling-like relationship. 😭 I based most of their personalities on how they act around Mel off my annoying brother (affectionate 😌💕😂). I’m also so happy you feel the Jedi are also in character as well, and that it feels like a comfort to read them, like you’re learning about them along with Mel. 🥺💕 That was actually a lot of the idea with this fic (besides me living vicariously through Mel to romance Anakin, of course 👀😂❤️) over how I would slowly write scenes to SHOW the audience the misconception about the Jedi/their culture/certain characters. I didn’t want to PREACH to them. I wanted to present them with the evidence that maybe the Jedi aren’t “repressive” and “emotionless 🙄🤢” as they might’ve been led to believe by a big chunk of the fandom’s harsh perception. It would be like it was happening in time with Anakin as his thoughts change into something better and less self centered.

And I HAVE actually received a comment on Wattpad from a reader that my fic helped change their minds about Mace and the Council! 🥰🥰❤️ And it was just… such a joy to hear. 😭❤️ That’s the idea with this fic. I hope to reach across the aisle towards EVERYONE—maybe anti Jedi fans will read my work and have their minds changed about their culture. Maybe someone who despises Anakin to the bone will read my fic on a whim and slowly grow to care about him/see the humanity underneath the surface, just like Mel has. And maybe by the END of this fic… I’ll have convinced some people that the Jedi are not at fault for their own genocide by “failing” Anakin—because the truth is that it was HIS choice. Maybe by the end of this fic, there’ll be fans who’ll read the work and grow to see that you can love a character while still criticizing them/knowing they’re in the wrong (ie; Anakin 😔💔), while ALSO still acknowledging that he went through such horrible trauma as a kid while a slave on Tatooine… but it still DOESN’T absolve him or give him the right to hurt others just because he’s hurting himself.

That’s what this fic is all about, after all. GENUINE growth and change. Not placating a man by changing a few moments that he won’t have to go through in the timeline that will suddenly make him all “warm and fuzzy inside” and see the light. TRUE redemption and change means that Anakin will have to grow and ADMIT he was wrong while not becoming defensive when his actions (*cough* the Tuskens *cough*) are brought to light. Essentially, I’m trying to “Zuko-ify” him. (Loool, I know. Pretty high hopes for myself there. 😭😂❤️)

I’m also soooo happy you love and relate to Melanie so much. 🥹❤️❤️ Almost all readers have told me similar things, and it’s so wonderful to know that I’ve made a character that has been accepted by a small portion of the “SW/Anakin fandom”. 😆😁💕❤️ Mel came about when I was one day reading over an isekai story and just… not being able to fully immerse myself, because the OC’s reactions just didn’t seem realistic to me. 😭 And so I remember sitting down and imagining how I would react in such a situation (immediate freak out/think I was dreaming/would run in terror from Anakin’s hot ass at every opportunity 😌❤️‍🔥😂), and then that’s how Melanie Bains came into being! Haha. ❤️😁

So, while Mel IS somewhat of a stand-in for the audience (it IS an isekai fic after all 😭🤷‍♀️), it was still very important to me to make her three dimensional and—while yes, very relatable—also make sure she became her own character who could grow into herself. So a hero’s journey was important, along with giving Mel an antagonist (The Shopkeeper) separate from Anakin’s antagonist (Palpatine), because it was SOOOO important to have Mel have her own character arc/story AWAY from Anakin. It was important that Anakin wasn’t ALL she was about. Mel has friends (Ahsoka/the clones), she has her own plan she’s dealing with to try and save the galaxy while barely giving Anakin a second thought besides terror at first, and most importantly—Melanie is NOT begging Anakin to change. That was soooo important to me. She doesn’t have TIME to beg him to change. There’s too much at stake already, and if Anakin changed FOR Mel, it’s not even true change in the first place. Instead, as you’ve probably guessed from my latest chapter, Mel is INSPIRING him to change himself, because of the qualities about her he is coming to admire which in turn makes him take a look at his own selfish actions. This is always where I think “bad boy/I can fix him” writers get things lost in translation. It’s not true redemption if they change FOR the girl, because—as the Marvel movie Shang-Chi has recently shown us 🥶—if the girl ever dies… then the “bad boy/villain” goes right back to being evil. 😭🤷‍♀️🤦‍♀️ What REAL redemption would be is meeting someone you grow to love who INSPIRES you to become a better version of yourself—not FOR them—but because you want to become someone like them. You want to stand by their side in the light and feel proud.

Anyway, I feel like I’ve ranted a lot. 😭😂❤️ But I just wanted to thank you soooo much again for your beautiful words that were so kind and truly brought a ray of light to my dreary days! 😭😭❤️❤️❤️ I only hope my long response time doesn’t discourage you from writing me messages in the future. 😅😓😭🫠 I’m so sorry again for the long wait.

But I have ADORED rereading your comment these past few days while I’ve been writing out my response. It’s so thoughtful and long and in depth and I lovveeee itttt. 😭❤️❤️❤️ THIS is what feeds our writer brains. Haha.

A playlist sounds awesome! 💕💕💕💕💕 I already made one for Anakin and Mel and the Melakin romance, as you can see from my last response. But I would still ADORE getting to know songs that you think fit with my fic and Mel and Anakin’s journey! 😭❤️❤️ If you ever do make it, please hit me up and send a linkkk! 👀👀🙏

Thank you so much again for letting me know my writing brought you such comfort. 😭💕 I hope you’ll stay and interact more as well! 😭❤️ I always love hearing theories or getting a comment to see a reader is rereading or that two readers are discussing something about my fic together. Haha. 😄✨❤️

And so, I suppose I’ll leave it here! I ADORE you and love you so much, dear reader. I am picking you up and hugging you like a stuffed animal. (Glomp!) 🤗🫂

I hope to hear from you again soon! 🥺💕 I’m so sorry again for the wait. 😭

And now… off to reply to four more asks. Lol. ✊

Gotta blast! 🏃‍♀️💨✍️👩‍💻

-

To any readers that stumble across this and are curious enough to check out my fic:

-

Tags:

@ensomniaa

@heartfairy

@fangirlteallie

@lemons-2-limes

@shoniwake

@silverwoodj

@lexskiss

@selenaftmarvel

[malewife-overlord]

Six Cycles Later -- Part II

no one asked for this. i wrote it anyways. for anyone who has not seen the fucking big as chunk of writing that was the part I, you can find it here. for anyone actually invested, welcome to part II! it picks up right where part I left off :)

if youre new here, six cycles later is a tf oc fic im writing about a seeker left behind on earth after the attack on autobot city, and a certain autobot who arrived on earth after going missing at the very start of the war-- both of whom are linked by the same desire to escape, and more alike than they'd think.

i consider this chapter to be a bit of a "transition" chapter, because it's a chapter where you kinda move from point a to b to get to c, lol. promise action and some delicious goodies are coming up in Part III :3 but we've gotta get there first.

word count: 7471

fic below cut! as usual, any nice comments or likes are appreciated u///u sorry it took so long to post this, im balancing writing with commissions and a full time job, so. idie a little but its okay

summary: invert goes to bali. she hates it. luster goes to the clinic. he hates it.

“Victory, cmon!” Invert stood before the double doors of the weapons vault, a frown etched on her faceplate. “Open the weapons vault! It’s an emergency!” 

Emergency protocol not engaged. Clearance level 3 required to access weapons vault. Present clearance level: 1. Weapons vault cannot be accessed.

“Victory!” She pouted, shaking a fist. “Come on! It’s me! I’m the only ‘con on this ship, I should have maximum clearance!”

Clearance level: 1. Weapons vault cannot be accessed.

“Victory!”

The ship gave her no response. Invert growled and tried the keypad again, then the scanner, then the keycard. Nothing. As if in warning, a loud buzzer sounded at the end, a illuminating a red light above the vault.

“How am I going to rescue my fellow Decepticons if I don’t have a weapon?” She asked aloud, glaring up, as if Victory would answer her. “I don’t even have proper blasters anymore!” 

Silence. Maddening, maddening silence. 

“Fine! Fine. I’ll make due. I’ll just run headlong into the Autobots and die, and no one will be left to maintain you! Then what?”

Nothing. 

A groan escaped her. “Really? …really. Fine.” 

She turned on her heel and stomped for her room, where she knew at least one weapon was waiting. It was dangerous, and could possibly blow up in her face again, and hadn’t seen actual use since the first test, but…well, it was better than nothing! And sure, she could access the weapons collection Starscream had in his habsuit, or the rare crafts Megatron had in his, but…

The punishment for even touching any of those would be far worse than anything the Autobots could do to her. She shivered and pushed the idea aside. Nope, not risking that. If she touched anything in their rooms, when they returned, they’d kill her. 

Then again, if she died on this mission, she wouldn’t have to worry about them killing her. 

Her personal pet project was in her habsuit, resting on the tiny desk she’d dragged into it. Her habsuit was at the very end of all the others–the Constructicons had had no desire to build it, so they’d shoved her in what had been the previous broom closet. The fact that she fit at all was a miracle, as was that they let her get away with stealing a desk for it. 

Perhaps after seeing what she’d started to make, they’d decided against reclaiming it. After all, not many bots could say they got to personally observe Shockwave working in his lab, and even fewer could mimic his proficiency with crafting weapons. 

She was not one of those fewer, but she had watched him work in the past. Being his personal lab assistant/slave had been eye opening in that way. And furthermore, it had led to her accumulating a few parts that would otherwise be impossible to acquire on Earth.

All of those factors combined to let her craft her own weapon. The intention was for it to be a sniper class with a greatly extended range starting at ten miles. That was to start. If everything went according to her dreams, it would be able to fire more than twice that on both planets and the cold void of space. 

Dreams, however, didn’t guarantee results. The prototype she kept in her habsuit had been her pride and joy until its original test fire had caused the damnable thing to blow up in her face, right in front of her fellow Decepticons. If anything had wounded her ego, that was it. 

And since then, she hadn’t bothered to fire it once. 

She stepped into her habsuit and observed her experimental weapon for only a moment before picking it up. This would be the second time it’d be in the field. She’d tweaked it over and over since that embarrassing day, changing the scope, the trigger, the barrel, the energon pump, and even provided ii the ability to transform. The latter wasn’t anything particularly impressive–the scope and barrel disengaged anyways to permit carrying it, and without the barrel the rifle was the same size as a blaster. Furthermore, despite its simplicity, the rifle had to be manually transformed, something that even simple blasters could pull off otherwise.

But it was her first attempt, her first real, genuine attempt, at making a weapon, and she felt she’d done a decent job for someone who’d never previously handled tools. 

It took a few seconds to convert the rifle, which was almost as long as she was tall, to its smaller, spike shaped form, which she then attached to her forearm via its magnetic underside. Utilizing it in jet mode would be impossible like this, but it was better to know she had a weapon than be a sitting quasiduck on her mission. 

Her blasters had been sacrificed to make the rifle. She sincerely hoped that the investment would pay off. 

“Alright!” She yelled, throwing her arms out. “That’s all I get, Victory! Just one experimental weapon! No blasters! No grenades! No fusion cannons! No null rays or swords or electric staves! All of which I could use if you’d just open the weapons vault! Are you really going to send me off with only this?”

Judging from the lack of response, it seemed that yes, it was. 

Frag this. She kicked the doorframe and stormed Skywarp’s habsuit. He was bigger than her and would make her life a living hell for two chords, but he’d get over it. Besides. She could punch him back without anyone giving her trouble for it. What occurred between Skywarp and whoever punched him stayed there. 

His habsuit was sparsely decorated, and what existed in it was usually so filthy no one else would touch it. Today she lowered her standards and grabbed one of the blasters she knew he kept under his berth in the hopes that no one would find them; considering how often he had his own revoked, and how much the others hated him, Skywarp had found it necessary to maintain some form of private collection, if only for self-defense from revenge that was absolutely earned. 

And now his constant need to misbehave was paying off: she wouldn’t be entirely unarmed for this flight, and having a sidearm was better than gauging her hopes on an experimental rifle. 

Attaching the blaster to her other forearm, she made for the hangar. Her tank felt like it was fluttering with each step. A quick diagnostic scan revealed nothing unusual–nothing besides her own wiring. For this first time ever, she was going to visit the hangar and take off from it.

The idea that she was flightless was, in truth, only partially correct. Invert, like all Seekers, had been forged with wings on her back. Yes, they were upside down, and yes, when she transformed, they pointed the wrong way, with the delicate trailing edge leading as opposed to the leading edge itself. This caused the angle her wings made to work against her, and normally kept her out of the air. But a messed up angle alone was not enough to keep her grounded forever. 

An Earth plane would struggle and stay put, never to dream of the sky. A Cybertronian would reason that with enough Energon and determination, anything could be done. And that was exactly how she intended to fly to Bali. 

She could fly. The force from her thrusters alone, once in the air, could keep her going upwards, though they would consume Energon at a rapid rate. For this reason she visited the Energon vault and procured five additional cubes–her present fuel levels were adequate enough she felt no need to recharge. As long as she kept her thrusters engaged and made sure to ride the wind currents of Earth perfectly, she calculated a likely path to Bali that only had a 32.6% chance of her crashing and dying in the process. 

Odds of 67.4 percent seemed favorable enough to her. She paused before the double doors of the hangar, vented, and opened them, stepping in.

“Victory, elevate the hangar.” The entire structure rumbled as it rose, the whoosh of water outside indicating they’d broken the surface of the ocean. She could hear waves beating against the metal. “Open. When I leave, return to the bottom of the ocean. I’ll be back. Even if you don’t seem to want me to.” 

She grumbled that last part.

The hangar doors opened. Bright sunlight poured in, causing her optics to readjust. She blinked a few times and took several steps forward, gazing out at the outside world. 

The ocean seemed to go on for eternity. Its color was a deep blue. White peaks formed and faded away as they crashed over and over against on the hangar. 

Above, the sky was cloudless. The winds were strong, rushing past her and howling in the enclosed metal environment. It was a good day for a flight. 

Invert returned to the back of the hangar and pulled up the coordinates in her hub. Approximately 8,502 miles. She’d cross it in a few earth hours if everything went well. 

If.

The Energon cubes felt heavy in her chassis as she transformed, lowering to the ground. The movement of her wings, shifting to her sides, becoming the things she’d have to rely on, felt wrong. It always did–like going from standing on two steady pedes to posing on one’s servos. One was natural, normal, comfortable, done without even thinking. The other required precise balance, intense focus, and a constant consumption of energy to maintain. 

She’d be more used to it if they let her practice more or gave her some lessons, perhaps. Perhaps they would do just that when they came back. And when they came back, they’d be proud, perhaps, of what she pulled off while they were gone. 

Giving her fuel supply one final check over, she engaged her thrusters and charged forward. 

Just like what you’ve seen Starscream do. Engage, shoot forward—

And she plummeted, shooting right into the ocean instead of the air. Spluttering, Invert turned back and barely managed to regain her balance before smashing into the seabed. A school of fish shot away from her, followed by some of the many legged organics and one of the squishy, color changing ones. 

She groaned, knocked a fist against her helm, and turned back to Victory, determined to try again. She’d get this right. She had to. 

She wouldn’t stop until she did.

—

Eight hours was all it took to reach Bali with the speed she maintained once airborne. High above the cruising altitude any human plane would comfortably fly at, she watched the unbroken ocean, speckled ever so slightly by the white peaks of breaking waves, and read over the logs on Insecticons. According to the writer of the Decepticon database, Insecticons were about as useful as unrefined Energon and equally likely to explode. Good to know. 

They were also incredibly disloyal. Of the three, Shrapnel, Kickback, and Bombshell, none had any kind of investment in the Decepticon cause. Their adaptations had given them the ability to consume organic matter and drastically increased their hunger. All they cared about was food. 

That would be troublesome, if she took them back to Victory immediately. With how low the Energon supply was getting, even one of them deciding to stuff himself could mean that the Decepticon cause on Earth died, permanently.

She’d have to approach them cautiously, without the same hospitality she’d extend to her fellow ‘cons (a good punch to the face, usually). What approach she’d provide, she’d have to decide, soon, since the coastline of the island nation had just manifested on the horizon–

When a warning suddenly appeared on her hub, covering almost her entire vision in red:

LOW POWER. ENERGON LEVEL: 10%. SEEK IMMEDIATE FUEL SOURCE. 

She cursed, but before the word could even escape her, her body convulsed, forcibly transforming back into its robot mode. Her nose cone dipped before turning back to her chassis and head, leaving her plummeting head over pedes. Her balance modulator began to scream in its efforts to right her, only to immediately disable as the rest of her forcibly entered power saving mode. 

The ocean was coming up fast. The wind whistled past, blocking out her audials. Tumbling over herself, Invert tried to use the boosters in her struts in an effort to slow her descent–and their force promptly made her tumble even faster. The world became a blur of blue as her systems flashed every warning under the sun. 

Then she hit the ocean, and the impact was so painful she momentarily offlined. Something cracked. Pain shot all throughout her frame, a damage report automatically pulling up in her hub as she sank below the greenish water, straight to the bottom below. 

It wasn’t a long drop, but just the act of hitting the sandy bottom exacerbated the pains shooting through her frame. She may as well have hit a wall at full speed. Blinking her optics several times, her damage report finally came into proper view. 

It wasn’t particularly savage, but neither was it promising. As she moved her arms to pull herself from her prone position on the seafloor they creaked ominously, the sound accompanied by broken glass spilling from her cockpit onto the sandy bottom. Glowing Energon joined it. 

That got her up. She practically leaped to her pedes, grabbing the cubes and stuffing them back into her chassis, cursing a storm as two of them began to leak. Cracks were apparent in both, and the delicate energy they provided bled out into the ocean currents. Two would be an entire recharge for her–she couldn’t let them go to waste. 

Pressing her servos against the cracks and praying that would be enough, she swiveled her helm, searching for the shore. The water was shallow–only about fifty feet, if her depth meter was to be trusted–but the open area she’d found herself in was still miles from shore. 

Miles she would not make without more Energon. Grimacing, already aware of just how poorly this would fare for her tanks, she brought the first of the cubes to her dermas and forcibly gulped it down, taking in far too much seawater in the process. Warnings popped up about contaminated fuel, followed by analysis of the contents: 96.5% water, 2.5% salts, .2% inorganic particulates, .8% organic particulates. 

The latter part almost made her purge what she’d consumed, but she kept it down. It was energy enough, she wouldn’t have to do it again and once she was back on land she’d purge anyways and forget that this ever happened. Tossing the empty cube aside and pocketing the second, she checked her map again for which way was land. 

North. She took off in that direction, the sandy floor gradually turning into some kind of living rock formation. Slimy looking organics of odd shapes populated the colorful stones, darting away as she stepped on and crunched them with ease. They left slime on her plating, which did not help her growing desire to purge. Stepping over what seemed to be an entire shelf of the organics, her helm finally broke water.

Ahead of her was a beach densely populated with humans. Around her, gasping and shrieking as they swam away, were more humans, all of whom had been previously enjoying themselves, somehow, in the ocean. 

She gave a dirty look to the closest ones and stomped forward, gradually rising out of the water as she approached the beach. The humans occupying it screamed and scattered, abandoning their little colorful fabrics and strange striped pole structures. A few foolish ones froze in place, staring at her in awe. 

Dripping with saltwater, covered in slime, and with a broken, gaping cockpit on display, Invert didn’t have the time nor patience to put up with any of them. Decepticons hardly had any concern for humans anyways, but it was generally discouraged to avoid stepping on them–it ruined your paint. 

Considering the damage her beautiful lime green had already attained, she didn’t think she could care less now. 

“Hey!” 

With her map pulled up in her main hub, she hadn’t noticed the one human that, as opposed to running in fear, had frozen up and stood their ground. She glanced down, spotting a tanned one just by her pedes. 

“Are you one of those Autobots?” 

The question actually made her pause for a moment, considering the Decepticon brand on her wings. If she were feeling a bit more patient or playful, she might tell him yes, she was, and he and all his friends should absolutely be fine with her holding a few of them for potential hostage situations later. Perhaps she could convince them to take her to her quarry without even an ounce of concern that they might call for help. It was an action that would make strategic sense, that any intellectual Decepticon would leap at. 

Invert, however, was tired, cranky, and not particularly fond of anything made of metal at the moment. 

She bent and flicked the human aside, not paying any attention as to just where the hell it might have landed. Humans. Worthless, bold, idiotic creatures. So tiny and delicate. And yet they still thought they could talk to beings like her. 

“How much longer till I get there?” She asked her systems as she headed off the beach, crunching a few human structures along the way. It responded with a calculation of the remaining distance to her quarry: halfway across the island, nestled in a ‘mangrove swamp’. Another thirty minutes of walking. 

Her pedes crushed plants and bent concrete as she followed the straightest path, ignoring whatever might have been built upon it. Humans panicked and ran in all directions to avoid her, their tiny screams grating on her audials. They were turned down in response, muting any potential crunching that may have occurred as she kicked aside a wooden structure marked with the image of a cone. The humans and their worthless, useless, delicate structures, were left behind in no time. 

And foolishly, she did not once consider that one of those screaming, fleeing humans might have called for help.

—---------------------

The coordinates lead her to a swamp. After a good ten minutes of walking, Invert found that the island gave way to less populated areas, rife only with animal and plant based organics. They were no more pleasant to deal with, but they didn’t scream nearly as much, and their movement patterns were relatively predictable. They fled to the undergrowth and hid there, as if they were praying she’d leave them alone. 

Good organics. They knew where they belonged. 

As she neared the swamp the dirt moistened, sticking to her pedes, and the water made its damnable return, flooding the land and forming pools that ran up her cadulens. The trees lifted themselves upon their roots as if they intended to walk away, forming cages which entrapped more organics within them. It seemed to her like a great prison, formed by the rejects of the Earth itself.  

Her map suddenly lit up, providing her with a name for the place she’d stepped into–the “Demon Swamp”. An informational packet came along with it, indicating that the Insecticon ship was nearby and that her Decepticon brethren had visited this place prior. She ignored everything except the part about the Insecticons. 

Invert was hasty, but not stupid. She done her research on the three of them during her flight–it had been difficult with the amount of focus she’d had to maintain at all times, but she’d pulled it off, because unlike some other one trick mechaponies in the cause, she could be taught how to do more than one thing. 

Of the three Insecticons, her greatest interest was in Shrapnel. They all seemed like frankly awful comrades, but the ability to produce clones was undeniably powerful. It wouldn’t matter if she was the last Decepticon on Earth. It wouldn’t matter if she only found him. It wouldn’t even matter if he could only make a few clones–a clone was still another robot, and numbers were what they needed more than anything. 

Silently, she hoped that he was the one who had created the distress signal, and that maybe, because of his electricity powers, he’d caused that infernal buzzing. It made sense. What else could have?

She made her way through the Demon Swamp cautiously.. For all she knew, Autobot soldiers were waiting around every corner. But more than that, the environment itself was actively hostile to her kind. 

The water was brackish, and sediment easily gathered between plating. The air was humid, which could clog vents. Organics constantly chirped in the background, distracting audials. The foliage from the mangrove trees moved constantly in the wind, requiring constant optic adjustments for lighting. And the water she waded through gave her position away to anything with ears in the general vicinity.

There was no approaching stealthily, not with the twisting roots that threatened to constantly trip her or the water that sloshed and bubbled like it was boiling. There was so much noise, even with her audials turned down, it was almost difficult to think. 

And that didn’t even begin to cover the constant buzzing that had risen into the air, one that she recognized. She was approaching the ship, she could feel it. Her map was pinging wildly, her coordinate numbers were rapidly growing smaller, and the buzzing of the signal, audible to everyone in a mile radius at minimum, was practically screaming. 

Actually…she paused, disabling her coordinates and turning her map off. The buzzing was still audible. Raising a hand to her helm, she disabled her comms as well. 

The buzzing was still audible. 

It wasn’t a signal, then. 

She took in a sharp ex-vent and continued forward, the mangrove trees overhead beginning to close together, blocking out the sunlight from above. The route she was following had taken on the qualities of a tunnel with mangrove roots forming its walls. They twisted and crawled over one another like tentacles. It made her plating crawl. 

The path curved sharply. She was met with a curtain of organic filth, gray and twisting. The buzzing had turned to almost shrieking now, and her scanners indicated that Cybertronian technology was very close now. Grimacing to herself, Invert grit her dentae and shoved the curtain aside, convulsing only slightly as it draped over her plating. It worsened her desire to purge–but that wasn’t the only contributor to the growing feeling. 

Before her, nestled in a massive grotto, was an old, crashed ship of Cybertronian origin. The doors to it had long been blown off and water had pooled over its floors. Organic filth grew over its top and mangrove roots had looped over its wings, trapping it in place. Its interior was pitch black, but she could detect some kind of movement from within. 

From the heart of that dark void the buzzing originated, sounding like the shriek of static. And just below it, she could hear a voice. 

“LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!”

—---------------------------------------------------

Seek alternate fuel source.

By the time Uptick’s data package sent him the notification to end recharge, Luster still hadn’t managed to offline for even a moment. Throughout the entirety of Earth’s night he’d laid still, listening to the endless humming that droned in his processor while watching the light of the moon creep across the floor. Earth’s moon was a small satellite structure about fifty times smaller than the planet it orbited. From the safety of the organic’s home it appeared as a particularly large orb in the sky and went through eight different phases: full, waxing gibbous, first quarter, waxing crescent

He vented harshly at the image and promptly sat up, the constant pinging in his helm only now properly registering. Uptick had so graciously set an alarm for him that was thirty Earth minutes prior to when he was expected at the clinic. As if on cue, he heard a knock at his door, and a quick check of the electrical field coming from outside told him all he needed to know of who was waiting for him. 

A comm arrived in his link before he could disable it. Despite the alarm literally ringing in his processor and telling him to get up, which Uptick would know he was presently experiencing, another notification from the same mech now waited patiently in his inbox, politely and firmly reiterating what had been told to him the night prior. 

It would soon be time to go to the clinic. He was not permitted to avoid or skip this appointment. He was on his second strike, and a third would mean that he would go into lockdown. They did not want to make him a prisoner. This was for his own good. 

Tank capacity at 50%. Fuel uptake at 15%. Seek alternate fuel source.

He didn’t manage to close the notification in time and it promptly opened a dozen more. Groaning to himself, Luster slammed his helm into the nearest wall, the damage report temporarily clearing his hub. 

Another comm and knock arrived only a second after he completed the action. If his optics could roll into his helm, they would have. 

‘I’m up,’ he sent back. ‘Out in a klik.’ 

His comms were promptly disabled, blocking out Uptick’s response. Then, the damnable alarm that hadn’t once stopped ringing was seized, taken to the back of his processor, and disabled in the least humane way he could imagine. Lastly, every last notification was closed and its accompanying pop-ups blocked. 

Finally, a moment of quiet. He swung his legs off his berth and took in a few ex-vents, mentally preparing himself for just what he was going to experience at the clinic today. During his last visit, they’d given up on trying to get him to manually recall the details of his trip. Whispers between the medics had agreed upon bringing in “the big guns”. 

Whatever “the big guns” meant, he couldn’t say he was eager to find out. 

There were guesses he’d had towards just what such a term might be referring to–a psychic patch in, perhaps, or maybe the complete removal of his processor for dissection. Maybe they’d do a deep scan and recreate him in a digital space, just so they could pick him apart like a particularly interesting puzzle. 

That was all he was to them. A puzzle. Something to be solved, categorized, put together, pulled apart, and put away once solved. 

He couldn’t even solve himself. What made them think they could do it?

Uptick pinged him again. It had been exactly 16 kliks of blissful silence. Luster vented and stood. Despite his tanks remaining half full, he could feel the aggressive pangs of hunger nipping at him, ever on the edge of his mind. They were pushed aside as he tapped the keypad to his habsuit, opening the door. 

Uptick stood just beyond it, taking up the entire frame and more with his bulk. He stepped back when the door opened, a mandatory smile crossing his faceplate. 

“There you are! That’s the fastest you’ve ever arisen!” He beamed at the prospect of his work bearing fruit, which Luster found annoying. “I’ll keep this in mind for next time. Now, are you ready to go? If we’re early, they might be able to admit you faster, which means a shorter session, eh?”

“Sure. Shorter.” He grumbled and slinked past Uptick, who closed the door he’d left open and followed along. 

~

The clinic he visited on a weekly basis was located on the opposite side of Metroplex, towards the back of his city form. During the war, there had been dozens of buildings just like it, designed to hold the wounded and dying. After the assault on Autobot city and the incident with the Chaos Bringer on Cybertron, many of the clinics on Earth had closed down as the medics and doctors returned home. There were, after all, far more injuries and casualties on Cybertron, even without the war raging. 

The peace of Earth had seen all but two clinics close, which were kept open out of necessity. Rare as it was, on occasion an Autobot might return from sparring with half his arm blasted off, or from a drive amongst humans with his front completely ruined. Humans, as Luster had quickly come to learn, were awful navigators and drivers. They ran into everything from still trees to moving cars to thin pedestrians on the side of the road. 

And sometimes they ran into Autobots, and what was merely an inconvenience for them was a fatality for the fragile organics. 

He didn’t feel quite strongly about the humans. They were alright. They were small, and weak, but surprisingly intelligent. They thought he was fascinating and scary. Some thought he was a friend. Many had grown accustomed to his kind, and would look at him with expectant eyes. 

He couldn’t offer them anything. He didn’t know why he intrigued them. The less interactions he had with the small things, the better, he supposed. The only slightly less maddening thing about their company was that the beat of their ‘sparks’ didn’t drive his processor crazy. 

Which was reason more why he despised the clinic. If there were weak in Autobot City, they were here. And the weak…the weak made easy prey. 

The streets were full of Autobots this early in the morning. Most everyone was up at this point, stretching their legs, tires, and waking up their engines. With every Autobot that dashed past them, racing along eagerly in alt mode, Luster felt his solvents building. The clinic was within sight, and he could see a black and yellow mech lingering by it, chatting up one of the nurses. 

Their sparks were so bright he could almost see them through their plating. 

Seek alternate fuel source.

Luster staggered to a halt in the middle of the street, venting harshly as he slammed a fist to his helm. 

Uptick startled behind him, instantly raising a hand. “Luster? What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

He gagged, hissing through his dentae. “I…I need to leave. Now. I need–”

“Now is no time for cold pedes.” Uptick said firmly, crossing his arms. “I know you’ve been opposed to these sessions, but the medics have assured me–”

Seek alternate fuel source.

The notifications were building nonstop. He couldn’t focus on moving, ignoring the sparkbeats, tuning out Uptick, resisting his aching tank, and closing the pop ups, all at once. He needed just a moment of calm, anything to temporarily turn it all off. 

“I need Energon,” he spat, ignoring whatever else Uptick had said. “Now.”

“Luster–!”

Jerking away, Luster staggered in the direction he knew the bar to be in. Three streets over, seven blocks down, take a left at the lamp post, follow the street until you see a lit up sign–

“Luster!” Uptick yelled, catching up with him in a moment and grabbing him by his shoulders. Luster growled and tried to shake him off, but he held on, turning him around like he was only an indignant sparkling. “You are absolutely not visiting the bar again. I tolerate this habit of yours on your best days, when it is appropriate to do so. Believe me when I say this, I understand how… appealing it can be to try and drown yourself in energy when you’re faced with the horrors of the past. But you…you’re taking it to dangerous levels.” His faceplate was more stony than the diamonds in Luster’s helm. “And I know for a fact that your tank does not empty at a rate so rapid that you’d need to refuel after only six hours of recharge.” 

“I didn’t recharge,” Luster snapped back, reaching up to grab one of Uptick’s servo’s. “I couldn’t offline for even a second last night. I’m starving, I need Energon, Uptick!”

“You need to stop acting like this!” His grip only tightened as Luster scratched at it, some of the white paint chipping away. “Avoiding your appointments to drink at the bar won’t change anything for the better, Luster! If you keep resisting change, you’ll end up trapped in the past!” 

The street had been sparsely populated only moments ago. Now, Luster was aware of other Autobots pausing in their going-ons. Several helms poked out from buildings, curious to see exactly what one of their enforcers had caught. 

He didn’t want to make a scene. The last thing he needed was more Autobots in the area around him. The quiet pounding sounds rapidly surrounding him were like drums on a quiet evening. But before he could even try to look around another notification popped up. 

Feed.

“It’s not about being stuck, idiot!” He screamed back, a snarl twisting his faceplate. He could feel the metal threatening to crack and break apart at the seams, right where his jaws would hinge. “I NEED this, or I’ll offline! I’ve got a fuel deficiency!”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” Metal creaked as Uptick’s grip suddenly tightened, earning him a hiss. “I’ve have personal access to your file! There’s nothing wrong with your physical health!” 

Nothing wrong? NOTHING WRONG?!

The file was already so wrong by claiming that, and none of them even knew it. 

Seek alternate fuel source.

There are many sources nearby. 

“Is that so?” He grit out, feeling something on his back shifting. “Is that what they told you?” 

Was it so, Uptick? Would it always be so? Would it be so when he broke his faceplate, snapped his servos, and–

And what was he thinking?

He froze in the middle of forming his next sentence, voice dying before it could make any words. There was something shifting on his back, beneath his drill, and it replaced all the anger he felt with instant fear. There were witnesses. There were Autobots he knew around. If he let any more of himself slip, he would never speak to any of them again. 

The fight left him as quickly as it had entered, uselessly bleeding out like the Energon in his tank. Uptick seemed to sense this, his own rage subsiding, loosening along with his servos. Their impression had been left behind in Luster’s shoulderpads. He’d barely felt them bend, hissing only out of reflex. 

It was supposed to have hurt. He hadn’t even felt it.

The noise was coming back now. It was accompanied by the voices of other Autobots. He was suddenly so aware of the gazes upon him. Standing in the middle of the street by the clinic, he’d made himself the spectacle of the sector. And Uptick…

“We’re here early,” he muttered, venting quietly. “If you attend, and give them no issue, then…perhaps after your appointment…I…” He trailed off. “Your favorite refuge, it’s the Lead Pigeon, right?”

Luster did not look at him, or anyone, for that matter. Numbly he headed for the doors of the clinic, the red and orange nurse from before waiting for him. Uptick said something, following him halfway to his destination before stopping in the street. The medic cast him a glance before focusing back on her patient. 

“Luster! It’s good to see you.” The nurse held out her arm and spoke like she hadn’t watched him almost assault an enforcer in the street. “We’re almost ready for you, if you’ll just follow me. Got to take vitals.”

“Right,” he muttered, the noise of his notifications starting to drown out the street he’d left behind. Amongst it all, a ping came in from Uptick. He lingered over it for a few seconds as his body trudged along, leaving his mind stuck at the doors of the clinic. 

“Luster?” The nurse stopped by a machine. “Please step on the scanner.” 

He dismissed Uptick’s ping and obeyed. 

After the initial scans, he was led to the back of the clinic. The nurse took him to a small room with an examination table and a monitor. He moved to the table while she retrieved her datapad and tapped him in, the door sealing shut behind them. 

He’d been to the clinic a dozen times before, but it was the first time they’d taken him to this individual room. It was smaller than he’d thought they’d put a mech of his size in. With both their frames crowded in alongside the monitor and table, the place felt almost stifling. He shifted uncomfortably, dismissing more pings and notifications as she finally looked up from her datapad. 

“Alright, you’re all checked in. I’ve sent a comm to the surgeon you’ll be working with today.” She smiled, again. It was starting to bug him. “Have you been made aware of the treatment you’ll be undergoing today?”

“No,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his legs. “What is it?”

Ignoring his tone, she kept smiling and continued. “Are you familiar with mnemosurgery? Following your last encounter at the clinic, the doctor felt it would be best if an alternate approach was used to help you regain your memories. A specialist was called in from Cybertron, just for you.”

Luster cringed at that. All the way from Cybertron. Someone from home, or what home was supposed to be. Someone who’d remind him of how much he’d changed, how much home had changed. Was it anything like he remembered?

Mnemosurgery. It meant nothing to him. He frowned. 

“So he’s come all the way from Cybertron to do…something weird to me?” He vented. The drill on his back felt all the heavier. “Wonderful.”

The nurse was still smiling. Did she ever stop? Did she think it was reassuring? He felt like he was going to purge. 

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry. Mnemosurgery has been used plenty of times to help mechs struggling with trauma. The doctor wouldn’t have prescribed this if he thought it would be harmful to your health. And–”

A knock on the door interrupted her. Turning, she flipped the lock and it slid open, revealing a lavender mech with teal and yellow accents. He was wearing a silver visor and carrying a datapad, and gave the nurse a nod as he stepped in. “Luster of Cybertron, I take it?” He asked, silver gaze taking in the form of the pathetic creature sitting on the examination table. Upon receiving a nod, he grinned and held out a hand. “Good to meet you! I’m Redactor, and I’ll be serving as your mnemosurgeon.” 

His greeting was not returned. Unperturbed, Redactor dismissed the nurse, though he didn’t bother to sit where she had. Raising his datapad, he stood by the door as it closed, reviewing whatever information was on it. 

“So tell me about yourself, Luster!”

His voice was annoyingly cheerful. From the looks of his shoulderpads, tires, and the gaudy paint job, Luster guessed he was a race car. There were even rear wings on his back, split for each arm. His Autobot insignia was proudly displayed on his helm. 

“What’s there to tell? Everything you need to know is on that datapad.”

Redactor shrugged. “Sure, but as your mnemosurgeon, I’d like to potentially learn a bit more about you before I go digging around in your memories. It’s never pleasant to have a stranger in your thinker, is it?” He tapped his helm and let out a light chuckle.

Luster arched an optical ridge. “What do you mean by that?”

“Do you know what mnemosurgery is?” Redactor tilted his helm slightly, and when Luster shook his own, continued. “Mnemosurgery is the process of entering another Cybertronians mind. We…it doesn’t have a great reputation, I’ll be entirely realistic with you.” 

Despite the seriousness of the topic, he let out an awkward laugh. 

“You see it has a bit of a…connection, with the concepts of shadowplay and…well, during the war, it was frequently used to pry secrets from the processors of soldiers.” 

“But! Time marches on.” He gave Luster a smile that was supposed to be reassuring and failed to do just that. “You have my promise, I am not here to control you or alter your memories—I’m here to help you regain them. I heard you’ve been having memory problems?”

“That’s…one way of saying it.” He sat up, his back strut cracking as he did so. “I can’t remember anything, which I’m sure that datapad has already told you. So how are you going to fix that?”

Redactor raised one hand, needles suddenly springing from his fingers. Luster’s optics widened. Beneath his drill, something stirred, preparing to spring out defensively. 

“Relax! The process is painless!” The needles retracted and Redactor waved his hand placatingly. “According to your file, your memories are damaged, but it’s likely that they still exist, buried deep within your processor. You just can’t access them. That’s where I come in!” 

He gave his horrifying servos a wiggle. “With these, I can delve into your processor and potentially guide you back into those areas you can’t access. Now…granted, it may take several tries, and the process is quite dangerous to me. But…well, I can’t just turn down someone in need.”

“In need?” He was in need, all right, in need of not having needles jammed into his processor. He’d had the thing literally poked and prodded before, but this? Another ‘bot, literally inside of his head, accessing his memories? 

“Yes. Whatever happened to you out there, it’s destroyed quite a bit of your processor, hasn’t it? Don’t you want to remember any of it?”

When he didn’t answer, Redactor leaned forward, pressing even further. “Don’t you want to remember Cybertron? Your ship? Whatever you found out there? Solace?”

Solace. 

Don’t you want to remember Solace?

Solace. 

He felt like the ground was dropping from beneath his feet, flipping his tank out of his intake. Coughing, Luster felt warm Energon spill into his mouth, dripping out from his dermas. Redactor cringed at the sight.

“Are you alright?” He asked worriedly, though his words fell on deafening audials. 

Solace. 

Solace. 

Who’s Solace?

“If you’re not feeling well, I’ll call the nurse, we can do this another day–”

“Don’t.” The words spilled out of him along with the pearls of Energon, his optics focusing on the silver of Redactor’s visor. “Solace. You can help me remember Solace?.” 

There was an edge to his voice, a desperation that made Redactor flinch. 

“I–yes, that’s the hope. I–have you eaten this morning? The nurse said there was an incident–”

“I’m fine. Tell me. What are you going to do?” He leaned forward, almost losing his balance on the table. “What do those needles do? Are you going through my helm?”

“Oh, heavens no. They, ah, enter through the back of your neck, where I’ll connect with–”

“Don’t care. You said it doesn’t hurt?” 

“No, absolutely not. Completely painless, I assure you. Um, are you sure you’re feeling alright, you seem…well, friend, you’ve done a bit of an about face, haven’t you?”

He balled a fist and wiped Energon from his dermas. “Haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talking about. How long is this going to take?”

“The mnemosurgery? Anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours. I try to keep sessions short–the longer I’m in your mind, the greater the danger to me.”

Just a few hours at max. He could hold out for that long. With how slowly his tank drained anyways, he wouldn’t be anywhere close to empty even by the end of the earth day. A few hours. That was all. 

Solace. He had to find out what happened to Solace. This would let him find out what had happened to Solace. 

What happened to Solace?

“Alright. Poke me. Stab me. Whatever you’ve got to do. Let’s do this.”

Redactor winced. “It’s…good to see that you’re so…cooperative! Al-alright, please lie down.”

He did as instructed. Redactor loomed over him, needles poking out of his servos as he moved to his helm. 

“Now, please try to relax. Disable your optics if need be. The more stressed you are, the more difficult it can become for me to enter, and…”

Redactor was going on and on about the process. Luster did not care. He was too busy attempting to close every notification currently crowding his hub. 

Seek alternate fuel source.Seek alternate fuel source.Seek alternate fuel source.Seek alternate fuel source.Seek alternate fuel source.Seek alternate fuel source.Seek alternate fuel source.Seek alternate fuel source.Seek alternate fuel source.SEEK ALTERNATE FUEL SOURCE.SEEK ALTERNATE FUEL SOURCE.SEEK ALTERNATE FUEL SOURCE.SEEK ALTERNATE FUEL SOURCE.SEEK ALTERNATE FUEL SOURCE.SEEK ALTERNATE FUEL SOURCE.SEEK ALTERNATE FUEL SOURCE.SEEK ALTERNATE FUEL SOURCE.

A few hours. Just a few hours. That was all he had to hold on for. 

He could do this.