#Team Timepiece

[team-timepiece]

The full line up of Team Timepiece

Maya the Mudkip- @shadisaa

Chandan the Chikorita- /ThatWierdo

Seraphim “Sera” the “Skitty”- Myself

[kirric-the-fan]

Thought of the day: Did Toei pick the wrong season to start the otona precure with?

Theory: Precedent from original seasons set us up for disappointment with the way Y!5 otona precure panned out from the start.

And this is not talking about the character relationships or any of that.

Let me explain:

Context:

- Precure Yes!5 got an adult sequel season, for the first time in precure history. This also included Splash Star, and a visit from the original futari wa Max Heart trio in the final episodes, the three original precure teams. Going right back to their roots, the very start. All in all, it was big nostalgia bait. Nothing bad about that, but,

- The Yes!5 team was the main focus. By numbers, if nothing else. No questions about that either.

- As I mentioned before, there was a lot of nostalgia-bait, and it meant they included a lot of reused original transformation footage. Nothing wrong with that either. Sensible planning choice, good to sell all the old transformation items etc. I don't blame them. Might as well capitalise on it.

except...

- In all of precure history, there have only ever been two second seasons before otona precure kicked off. The first being Futari Wa Max Heart, and the second being Yes!5GoGo!

- The cures in both second seasons got outfit upgrades. The Yes!5 season got a change to transformation items too, perhaps, and somewhat subconsciously, setting a precedent, that new season=new transformations and items, even with the same characters.

Flash forward to the reveal of Power of hope precure full bloom, and we get a clear change in characters (they're adult now ofc they're going to change), and an opening (I think: I do need to check whether it was the op or ed that this was in as I can't remember off the top of my head) where the characters are seen catching timepieces that quite reasonably could be new transformation items.

Again, it could be subconsciously, but I think leading on from that, people were expecting new stuff in those other places like transformations and outfits. Or at least upgraded stuff. Which we obviously didn't get.

I don't think it was a bad thing, reusing original stuff as much as they did, I really don't, I just think that if they had done it with pretty much ANY other season first, even as a one-off, we wouldn't have noticed as much when it came to Full Bloom (and would have been on less of a downer on the season from the start).

Anyway, those are my thoughts. I'd be interested to know what you think.

tl;dr: We expected new transformations and items in otona precure bc Y!5 squad got them in previous seasons. Then it didn't happen.

[mamamouches]

35.7% C.DMG??!??

raised this one w kuni and then he does this i 😭😭 ITS SO GOOD??? IT ROLLED ONCE IN ER AND THEN IT ALL WENT IN C.DMG IM SO 🥺

HEY? HEY?? TYSM SWEETIE MWAH 🫶🫶🩵

[deepseamuse]

Me: I finally got Kokomi, now I have a character for which artifact grinding should be simple since she doesn’t need any crit! I’ll go try it out right now - I haven’t done the Ocean-hued Clam domain since it first came out, and there’s a decent chance I get something decent…

My artifacts:

That comic based on @fervency-if’s grouchy writings was more accurate than I could have known… clam hhhhhhh

[reminiscingtonight]

Smooth Operator

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

[WOSO Masterlist]

Aitana’s smirking at you when you drop into the seat in front of her. You’re instantly dropping your face into your hands, wishing the ground would just come swallow you up. 

“What the hell was that?” Keira chuckles, giving you a gentle nudge. 

“What the hell was what?” you huff, shoving Keira back. 

“Nice shoes? Really?” Aitana tags on, joining in on the teasing. 

“I panicked, okay?!” you groan. 

Having joined the team in the last trade window, your best friend thought it would be a great idea to go explore nearby cafes in an effort to immerse you into the Barcelona culture a bit. Aitana tagged along just for funsies, but it was a clear coincidence that the three of you ran into Alexia. The Barcelona captain looked deep in conversation with her sister when the three of you walked into the shop, not even noticing you guys until Alba looked up and waved.

You’ve been enamored with Alexia long before you even joined the team. You’ve only ever had the chance to admire from afar, but it wasn’t until you actually saw her in action that your admiration turned into a feet stumbling, constant stuttering, blushing hot mess. 

You like to take pride in your smoothness, the way you can charm almost any person that crosses your path. Just in the latest national team camp you were voted most likely to talk their way out of a ticket. 

“A couple fluttered eyelashes and a well-placed laugh, who wouldn’t fall for her?”

If only your teammates could see you now. 

Every time you cross paths with the Spanish midfielder you’re grasping at the straws just to string along a coherent sentence. 

Alexia asks if you know the time? You blurt out that your phone is dead before diving behind Keira, ignoring the timepiece sitting upon your wrist. 

Alexia jokes that the Spanish sun is zapping away all of her energy? You trip seconds later, spilling your water all over her.

Alexia defends you in a drill? You stumble over the ball, missing it completely before taking Alexia straight to the ground.

No matter what you try to do, you always end up embarrassing yourself. 

Case in point just a few seconds ago. 

Being the pieces of shit they are, Aitana and Keira send you to order your drinks. Coincidentally Alexia’s back in line herself, ready to get another thing for her sister. 

You’re mentally rehearsing your orders when a gentle hand on your back grabs your attention. Alexia gives you a soft smile when you turn to face her. 

“How are you today?” 

Her english is heavily accented, but it’s nice how she tries to keep you engaged, knowing you’re still struggling through your catalan and spanish lessons.

Or it would be cute if you actually heard any of it, because the truth is anything she says after she flashes a smile your way goes right over your head. Your heart turns to goo, hands getting sweaty, throat going dry.

“You’re so pretty.” 

It’s a whispered comment meant only for your ears. But the second you realize you said it out loud rather than in your head like you intended, your face burns in embarrassment.

Thankfully, Alexia’s eyebrows furrow together, your quiet words difficult for her to decipher. 

“Què? I am sorry, I did not catch that.”

“I just-- I meant--” you fumble, desperately trying to find an excuse. “Your… shoes! Your shoes are very pretty! Very nice too!”

Your voice carries, definitely not meaning to be as loud as it comes out. It’s hard to miss the way Alba tilts her head curiously at the two of you and the way Keira and Aitana start giggling near the back of the shop.

Your face feels even hotter as you will for the line to go faster. The sooner you get out of here, the sooner you can stop embarrassing yourself. And the sooner you can strangle the two bozos masquerading as your friends. 

Alexia still looks confused but she nods. “I… uh, thank you? I think it’s a Nike one. Running shoes.”

Not trusting your mouth to say anything else, you slam it shut. You must look like a madwoman as you nod vigorously. 

You don’t miss the way Alexia gives you a concerned look, but then the barista is calling your name, saving you any more small talk.

A mumbled goodbye and you’re booking it back to your table as fast as you can without spilling any of your drinks.

---

You wish you could say things get better in the following days.

But you’d be a liar if you said that.

So far you’ve complimented Alexia’s club issued shorts, awed over her bare, unpainted nails, have even miraculously asked if she got a haircut (spoiler she did not). Every time you receive a confused look and a tentative thank you, two acts that make the urge to transfer clubs and never show your face again more and more tempting.

None of it amounts to anything until a few days later. 

You’re out getting drinks with the rest of your team after a successful game. You yourself had scored two goals, and Keira, ever the best friend she is, wanted to celebrate your first brace with Barca in style.

The first drink didn’t even last a whole minute. Keira had no choice but to watch you inhale your cocktail, somehow only managing to choke once. She’s lost for words when you also down the shot Mapi slides your way. Reaching across the table, you pick up Keira’s shot as well, tipping back your head before slamming the cup onto the table. 

It isn’t until you’re reaching for your fourth glass that Keira says something, hand quick to cover the drink before you can lift it. 

“Woah there, drink a little faster why don’t ya?” she teases, a silent question of concern underlying her words.

Shrugging her off, you’re quick to down your third shot. “I need a little bit of liquid courage,” you huff, fighting back a wince at the burn.

“Liquid courage for what?” 

Keira’s question is quick to be answered when a shadow falls over the two of you. Keira’s hand is quickly replaced with those of your captain, Alexia not looking too amused to see you drinking so much alcohol during the season. 

“Everything okay over here, chicas?”

She raises an eyebrow, almost daring you to give her a reason to snatch away the only thing keeping you sane at the moment.

Alexia’s obviously expecting a somewhat coherent explanation from you. Or even a half-assed stringed-along excuse. What she gets instead is--

“Will you go out with me?” you blurt out, instantly slapping your hands across your mouth the second the words come out.

Alexia pauses, looking at you with wide eyes. From all around, your teammates are choking on their drinks, clearly not expecting you to just blurt it out like that. 

Unlike their captain, everyone else on the team has been well aware of the affection you’ve been holding for the Catalonian. Ingrid has to elbow Mapi in the side to stop her from cackling, Pina in the same boat with Patri, the older woman nearly falling off her chair in laughter. Meanwhile, Alexia’s mouth opens and closes a couple times as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing. 

“You want to… go out with me?” She sounds confused, as if she can’t comprehend the thought of you being romantically interested in her. 

You’re half mortified, half exasperated that you said it the way you did, but you’ve shown your cards at this point so you might as well just roll with it. 

“This is embarrassing,” you mutter, eyes nervously darting around the room. “I’ve been trying to ask you out since like… day three of joining Barca.”

An unhelpful snort escapes Keira and she wither as you direct your glare towards her. 

But the anger is short lived as a soft finger curling under your chin has you raising your eyes back up to Alexia. Your captain looks amused, a small smile starting to settle on her face. “So you asking about my shoes a couple days ago was you trying to flirt with me?” 

The tease causes your face to flush even more red as you wince. “Yeah, that didn’t really come out the way I intended.”

The quiet laugh Alexia lets out should make you feel even more mortified, but you’re past the point of caring anymore. Now if only Alexia would grant you the mercy of a quick rejection you could finally let go and squash this giant hopeless crush of yours. 

“I’d love to go on a date with you,” Alexia chuckles, giving your cheek a fond pat. It’s done mockingly, really, but you can’t help but be endeared by the action. 

“Really?” You’d be embarrassed by how quick you light up but that would be the least embarrassing thing you’ve done all month so really you could care less.

“Really.”

And sure, you definitely see the way Keira halfheartedly slides a euro over to a gleeful Aitana, and yeah, Mapi’s definitely poking fun about how stupidly unsmooth you are but for tonight you’re the luckiest girl in Barcelona. 

Because you have a date with the Alexia Putellas. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[f1daydreamers]

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Fem!Reader

Summary: Asking the driver of the team you work for to attend a wedding with you as your fake date is possibly one of the dumbest ideas you’ve had ever.. but also one of the best.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of exes and annoying ones ugh, slight angst??, alcohol but it isn't heavy on the topic, let me know if I'm missing any!

Word Count: 2.3k (8 mins reading time avg)

…

You push the inner corners of your false lashes, whispering a curse word when the left one sprung back up again though you'd spent over a minute holding it down.

"Come on, play nice." You murmur, repeating the movement.

You slowly removed your finger, as if any mere force of air would make it lift again.

You really didn't have the time to mess with it, already keeping one eye on the clock.

"Hey, you nearly done in here?" Lance entered, giving you a single glance as you leaned in closer to the vanity mirror.

You eyed your appearance one final time to make sure your makeup was blended, even and smooth.

"Yep, just finishing up. You gonna get changed?" You fanned your face after spritzing your face with setting spray, then stood up from the stool and pushed it in.

With a nod, he sifted through his suitcase, the crease between his furrowed eyebrows distinctly visible despite his downward gaze.

"Are you okay?" You asked, taking a step closer.

You watched Lance effortlessly pick up his open suitcase and place it on the bed.

"Yeah, I just can't.. seem to find.. my watch." He said between pauses, and your eyes fell to the bedside table where his watch was clearly staring right back at you.

Without a hint of laughter, you brushed past him, capturing the timepiece between your fingers.

As he frantically searched for it, oblivious to what you were doing, you turned towards him.

"This watch?" You asked, innocently enough, a slight smile adorning your lips.

His eyes shifted to your hand where you extended his personal belonging to him, and he shook his head.

"Why is it that girls always know where everything is?" He rhetorically asked, and you shrugged as the corner of his mouth curved upwards into a grateful grin.

"Just one of our many talents." You responded.

"And the lack of ours," you chuckled as his fingers brushed yours to take the watch.

Lance's eyes fixate intently on your face and you wonder if you'd overlooked something, unblended contour or way overlined lips but he didn't look like he wanted to point something out, rather seemed.. taken aback?

His lips part slightly and you smile, blushing under his unwavering focus.

"Earth to Lance?" He stumbles in his speech, abruptly swallowing his words before tearing his eyes away from you.

"Sorry 'bout that." You ignore the wave of disappointment that washes over you and tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, before sliding past him again.

"I'll leave you to get changed," you said, pivoting to offer him a brief nod and smile before making your way out of the room. Once the door was shut behind you, you let out a sigh.

"Y/N, I've ironed it." You smile at your mum who appeared out of the empty room, which once belonged to your brother.

You thank her as she headed downstairs, and you lock the door behind you as you get changed into the outfit you'd packed. Carefully pushing your head through the hole of your top as to not ruin your makeup went fairly successfully.

Maybe it was a touch extravagant for an early evening outing, but you hadn't packed much since you also hadn't anticipated your brother's fiancé's insistence on getting everyone together before the weekend's chaos ensued.

You eventually went downstairs to gather with everyone else, encountering a mix of readiness. You found one who was eager to leave, one who still needed to pee, and one who couldn't find her other heel.

Lance idly fiddled with the sleeves of his sweater, tugging them up a bit. He had always been particular about the unpleasantness caused by the cuffs rubbing against his wrists.

As he entered the lounge, he stumbled slightly when your sister swiftly pushed past him in a fleeting attempt to run upstairs.

In the midst of her hurried movements, she shouted a few incoherent words of instruction to a hapless relative who happened to be occupying the bathroom at a time that was inconvenient for her.

Instead of blending into a group of unfamiliar relatives he had yet to be formally introduced to, Lance leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

His eyes roamed across the room, wondering what these people’s names could be, their background, their profession. He was merely amusing himself with a fictional concoction of reality.

You emerged from the midst of the group, your attention fixed on a cousin whom he had met previously. A bright smile on your lips, anticipation evident as you awaited their response.

In that moment, it felt as if time had slowed down.

Lance's face lit up with a smile as he observed your eyes growing wider in disbelief at something you were told but didn’t quite believe.

The smile lines from your lips to your nose became more pronounced as your grin stretched across your face.

Playfully, you leaned over and gave your cousin's arm a slap, causing your hair to cascade and partially obscure your laughing face, which was tilted downwards.

His gaze fell from your side profile to your body, fixating on the way your bodysuit, tucked into your leather pants, clung to your figure ever so snugly.

He knew if he were to touch you even once tonight, it would feel as though his hand was grazing your bare skin.

A thought that spurred on an erratic beat in his chest, a flutter in his fingers as he could only imagine it, but never truly feel it.

He brought the tip of his thumb up to his lips, perhaps to conceal the subtle upward twitch of his mouth's corners, deeply absorbed by.. well, you.

He really believed he was lucky, though this wasn’t real. This was a plan to fool your family and by Monday, it’d all be over.

"Lance right?" His eyes snapped to the approaching individual, meeting the man's hand in the middle, shaking it for a few seconds.

The F1 driver was slightly taller than him but not by much, his linen shirt and the sunglasses perched on his head didn't disguise the fact that they seemed similar in age.

"Yeah," Before he could ask any questions about him, he was quick to turn and point his chin towards you, still standing and conversing with your cousin.

"You're Y/N's boyfriend?" Lance gives a smile, nodding his head.

"That's me. I didn't catch your name?" He added rather quickly, before the opportunity to cut in again arose.

"Name's Thomas, but everyone calls me Tom." There was a hint of scrutiny in his eyes when Tom looked him over, something that was bound to make anyone feel uneasy.

Lance hardly knew the man and already felt like he wanted to conclude the conversation. Not because he was one to back down, but because he wasn't one to waste his breath.

...

You laughed as Daisy pointed accusingly at your brother, berating him for 'throwing her off' just as she was about to hit the winning putt in mini-golf.

He dismissed her rather effortlessly. Growing up, she was the most competitive one out of the three of you.

Lance seemed deep in his train of thought when you glanced at him, you leaned into the booth, the back of your head meeting his outstretched arm.

The contact drew him away from his reverie, and he met your gaze with a gentle expression.

"Hello stranger," You teased quietly.

"Stranger?" He questioned and you smiled, shrugging meekly.

"You haven't spoken much, you doing okay?" As he was about to answer, his eyes instinctively shifted from you to the man that was seated across the large booth, next to your brother.

Tom's eyes were trained on him, he'd been observing both of you since the evening had began.

"That um," He started and you watched him pick up his glass, take a sip from it then place it back down.

"That guy on the other side of the table," Lance's jaw ticked as he redirected his stare towards you again, diligently searching for the slightest hint of a change in your expression.

"White shirt, sunglasses." He sensed the urgency to comment on his appearance so you'd catch on, but he didn't know that you were already aware of who he was talking about.

He eyed you inquisitively, noticing your hand form into a fist on your lap.

"Old friend?" You peeled your gaze away from Lance to your lap, shaking your head.

You were wishing that he wouldn't even be mentioned tonight but since he'd made a reappearance, you realised you couldn't indefinitely confine your past to seclusion.

"Ex." You explained with a single word, practically feeling him tense then ease again besides you.

He retracted his arm from its previous position, no longer outstretched on the back of the booth.

You felt a pang of sadness in your chest; possibly from not letting Lance know, remembering he would be here tonight, or both.

"Small world." He commented, trying to think of what he could say next but really only one question springing to mind.

"Why is he here?" you grimaced, expressing your frustration.

You couldn't recall him ever having a particularly close relationship with any family member, making his presence tonight all the more irritating and confusing.

"I don't know." You breathed out, though being truthful.

"You never told me about him." Lance remarked, obviously referring to the bore speech you'd given him as preparation on most of the people from your hometown that he'd probably get acquainted with.

You'd failed to mention any of your exes, but it didn't cross his mind that you'd even have any exes whom of which were still close, enough to show up on a night out that was rather exclusive.

You gave him a pointed look, defenceless in this conversation. "He wasn't supposed to be here."

“Well, he is.” You rolled your eyes, terribly grateful for his rather obvious input.

He sensed that you'd rather drop the topic than continue talking about it so with a lopsided smile, he picked up his glass.

Lance stood up and glanced at your nearly empty glass, offering, "I'm going to get another drink. Do you want one?"

You respond with a subdued half-shrug, muttering a word of surety under your breath. Although you spoke softly, he managed to hear you.

He collected both glasses, left the booth and went over to the bar. As soon as your 'date' was out of sight, you allowed your gaze to wander around the room.

You can sense Tom's penetrating stare, but choose to ignore it, taking out your phone from your bag and navigating through various apps.

When Lance still hadn't returned after a few minutes of waiting, you decided to let him return and place the drinks down while you went to the bathroom to pee and touch up your makeup, not at the same time obviously.

As you exited the bathroom, hastily returning your pressed powder and lipstick to your purse, you were taken aback when you nearly collided with someone directly in front of you.

Prepared to apologise, you glanced up and locked eyes with the individual in question.

Letting out a sigh, you instinctively took a step back, creating a few feet of distance between yourselves.

"Y/N!" Tom bursted out, as if he was utterly surprised to see you despite being seated across the booth from you for a little over two hours now.

You blink back at him, hoping the ground would swallow you whole so this conversation wouldn't need to happen.

"Tom." You don't match his excitement in the slightest, on purpose.

Your eyes scanned the restaurant, desperately searching for any potential means of escape.

Your ex opens his arms, hoping for an embrace when you take another step back, holding out your hand.

"No. Look, we're not friends. I don't want to see you or even talk to you right now." You shut him down rather bluntly and he scoffs, scrutinising you with every speck of colour in his eyes.

"Oh come on, lighten up. I'm just being friendly." He replies, as if it was a valid excuse for his nonchalant behaviour.

You roll your eyes, ready to shoot back when Lance steps in between you both.

Your shoulders slump, feeling the tension bubbling in your body come to a slow decline.

You reach for his arm and he allows you to snake your wrist around his bicep. Tom smiles, rather forcefully.

"What's going on?" Lance asks.

"Friendly conversation." He states, deeming the F1 driver's presence an unneeded one with his words alone.

"Mm-hmm." You squeeze his arm, a poor attempt to throw a hint that you just wanted to be taken away from this conversation.

Lance nodded his head towards the man opposite you and remarked, "come to think of it, I've heard a lot about you, Tom."

His words caught your attention and you squeezed his arm again, a tad more firmly this time.

“Oh, really?” Tom lifts his eyebrows, shooting you a smirk.

"No," Lance replied in a flat tone, devoid of any enthusiasm.

Tom blinked, clearly a little shocked at his response. Lance pays him no further attention and rests his hand over yours, offering you a smile. "Care for a drink?"

"Please." His smile doesn't falter as he looks away from you and back up at the man who was now carrying a hostile look instead of a confused one.

"I'll see you 'round, Thomas." Lance says, pulling you away and allowing you to follow him back to the booth.

You slid back into your seat and scooted over to make space for the F1 driver. As he settled in, he casually outstretched his arm once again, placing it on the back of the booth and allowing it to drape over your far shoulder.

You leaned into his side, relieved he was playing his part perfectly.

...

Part 4

Masterlist

Comment if you want to be tagged in the next part :)

Taglist: @tororossoseb-blog @hiphopdancer101universe @hc-dutch @love4lando @chonkybonky @angstyeighteen @natasharomanoffisbaebby @little-angel-07 @voidskywxlker @flowerchild-96 @vildetry06 @sharllec @aundercover @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @spicyclover @mloyer @alesainz @e-lisa-bettan @hockey-racing-fubol @cinnamonroll2003 @honeyric3 @mentallyunstablebish @mcmuppet @xscorpioxmoon @ferrariloverr @rivivie @starkeyellow @vanillascreams

[aayuuwrites]

Writeblr Introduction...

Hey there, fellow adventurer!

Hey there! I’m Aayu (he/him), a newbie writer who spends a little too much time lost in fantasy worlds, building new adventures & stories, trying to create poetry that doesn’t always rhyme [oops! (ᵕ—ᴗ—)]. I’m here to share my writing, learn from all of you, and maybe even get lost in a few collaborative projects along the way. I’ve got a lot of ideas buzzing around in my head, and this space is where I’ll bring them to life. 🌟

A little bit about me:

Pronouns: he/him

Age: 19

INTJ / INFJ

Aries

Craves a whole lot of coffee! (⊙ _ ⊙)

Anime nerd ⎚-⎚

A fantasy-loving, world-building enthusiast

Sometimes you may catch me daydreaming about characters from movies and anime's who don’t know how to stay out of trouble...

Open to exploring any genre (but I mostly live in fantasy, fiction, poetry, and short stories)

Obsessed with adventure, complex plots, and creating characters who feel like friends (or enemies... depending on the day) >ᴗ<

Always here for tag games, writing prompts, and collaborating with other creative souls

What you’ll find on my blog:

My WIPs: From magical realms with strange mythical beasts to strange lands with lots of mystery, I'm always working on something new (and sometimes not quite finished, lol)

Poetry and Short Stories: Because who doesn’t love a little variety, right?

Collaborations: Let’s team up! I’m always looking to write with others, so feel free to talk to me in my inbox!

World-building and Adventure: Expect a lot of random world-building lore and the occasional overly-dramatic character monologue shit!

Introducing My WIPs:

1. Sherlock of Another World Genre: Fantasy / Mystery / Reincarnation / Magic Summary: A young boy, once a huge fan of Sherlock Holmes, is reincarnated into a world resembling the late Victorian era—only this world has an undercurrent of magic. After a fateful accident, he wakes up with his memories intact, determined to carve out a place for himself as the world's greatest detective. But this world is not full of political intrigue and societal drama; it also hides arcane secrets and mysterious forces that blur the line between logic and the supernatural. With his razor-sharp mind, well-stocked with knowledge of the methods employed by Holmes, he seeks to solve crimes that no one can. From the weird magical occurrences to secret societies controlling the arcane energy of the world, he weaves through an intricate web of riddles that may be more than he had in mind for himself. Will he turn out to be the Sherlock Holmes of this new world or will the magic and danger prove too much even for his brilliant mind?

2. The Eternity Clock Genre: Short Story, Magical Realism, Fantasy, Philosophical Fiction Summary: A small village in India’s Western Ghats, blending rich culture and mystical timepieces.

PS: Still working on some ideas so this section will be updated soon!

A Few Fun Things About Me (Besides Writing):

World-building is my like my jam. If I’m not writing, I’m probably mapping out cities or figuring out a character’s backstory or finding some inspiration to write from somewhere (and yes, I get really into it).

Music and Books are constant companions. I love finding the perfect inspiration to match's the mood of my stories.

I crave movies and animes—always on the lookout for something new to watch, even if my list is getting a little out of hand. (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

THANK YOU FOR YOU TIME!

Feel free to reach out if you want to scream about your WIPs, OCs, books, or any shared interests! Always up for a chat! 💬✨

[cloaksandcapes]

We recently wrapped up around a 2 year long campaign of Critical Role's Call of the Netherdeep. One of our players played a Chronurgy Wizard named Amaryllis Desoren. She was born to a corrupt, wealthy family and ultimately, ran away, rescued an orphan and changed her name.

She did and went through a lot of horrible things, both as Amaryllis and as Ember, her new identity. The girl she rescued, but also played a part in orphaning, Mina Keenleaf, also grew up to be a talented Wizard.

When Ember eventually turned herself and in and helped to take down the Desoren family, her old identity was pronounced dead. Amyallis Desoren was no more, but Ember got a second chance. She was remanded to the custody of the people of Whitestone and would spend the rest of her days teaching.

We created this magic item as a gift from Mina to adoptive mother Ember, when she reached her tenure in Whitestone.

Keenleaf’s Keen Timepiece

Wondrous Item, legendary (requires attunement)

“This expertly crafted clockwork timepiece is one of a kind. Both the enchantment and the construction of the watch itself is immaculate and likely never to be reproduced. There is a small inscription on the caseback that reads, ‘Life is better because you are in it. But here’s to fixing our small mistakes.’-M.K.”

This magical timepiece projects a small, temporal bubble around you that allows you to manipulate time to a very small degree for yourself and those close to you.

Temporal Revision. While wearing this watch, whenever a creature hits you with an attack, you can use your reaction to force them to reroll the attack, taking the new result. Additionally, whenever you miss with an attack roll, you can use your reaction to reroll the attack, taking the new result.

Time for Precision. You can use a bonus action to activate this magic item, which causes your perception of time to slow allowing you to make better decisions in the moment. For 1 minute, all of your attack rolls, saving throws and ability checks are made with advantage. Once you use this property, you cannot use the Temporal Revision property, or this one until you finish a long rest.

If you enjoy our content, please support our team of four on Patreon. Get access to over 700+ Magic Items, monsters, tokens, subclasses and more.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Complications

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

|| Consent universe oneshot but can be read independently from the series ||

{ Fuck Yeah Holidays | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Prompts: Dieter shoots a watch ad | New Year's Eve

Summary: Dieter shoots a watch ad at a New Year’s Eve party. What could possibly happen - specifically in the VIP powder room - when the ball drops?

Warnings: !WATCH KINK!, dirty talk, fingering, semi-public sex. These holiday fics are for fun, so not as *rigorously edited* as my regular stories, please forgive any mistakes or plot holes!

Word count: 2.3k

In horology, a complication is any feature of a mechanical timepiece beyond the display of hours, minutes and seconds.

Dedicated to Maddie @imaswellkid for loving watches on Pedro boys as much as I do 😘

‘Sweetheart. C’mon, stop pouting.’

‘I’m not pouting.’

Dieter brushes the pad of his thumb across your lips, pursed petulantly despite your denial. ‘You so are.’

You swat away his hand then cross your arms. ‘I’m scowling. There’s a difference.’

You’re not sure who made the executive decision to appoint Dieter Bravo as the brand ambassador of a watchmaker. The man’s never worn a watch in his life. Time is but a social construct to him.

But what’s done is done, and he will be launched as the face of their new line of luxury watches at a New Year’s Eve party hosted by the brand this very evening - a last-minute decision that’s upset your plans for your first new year together.

Pete is throwing a bash at the warehouse conversion he’s just moved into, and you’ve been looking forward to seeing your backstage friends from Resurgence since you got the invite. You pull out your phone to text him your apologies, which Pete responds to speedily with a string of sad face emojis, and follows up with a call to Dieter.

You can hear Pete whining through the receiver even though the phone isn’t on speaker as your boyfriend pacifies him. ‘Man, you know how much I wanted to come, but this work thing came up last-minute. We’ll make our way over right after the countdown, I promise. Yes, pinky promise.’

Your lips quirk despite your mood.

Hanging up as the car rolls to a stop in front of a swanky hotel, Dieter sighs at your long face. He leans over to press a kiss to your impassive lips, his brown eyes pleading. ‘I’ll make it up to you sweetheart, ok?’

‘Fine,’ you huff, softening just the tiniest bit as the car doors are flung open, and with one last smile at you, Dieter is whisked away by his PR team.

Midnight is still a few hours away, and the schedule is tightly packed with a photoshoot beforehand and filming of behind-the-scenes footage for social media. They settle you in the lounge of the presidential suite while Dieter gets ready in the other room, and you begrudgingly accept a glass of champagne and the plate of canapes they leave you on the coffee table.

You pace yourself, making the bubbles last. Pumped up dance music spills from his room as the door opens and closes with the rush of pre-shoot chaos. Garment bags, shoe boxes and makeup trolleys come and go as you entertain yourself with the glossy magazines on the coffee table while the PR team buzzes about, wired to earpieces and shouting orders into their phones.

You’re halfway through an embarrassingly engrossing magazine quiz - how hot is your sex life according to your fave side dish - when a shadow falls over you.

‘Sweetheart, we’re heading down to the party now. Come with?’

You can’t help but stare.

To be honest, you had no expectations whatsoever for this gig. You thought they would dress him up in a generic black suit, take some generic shots with him fiddling with his cufflink while showing off his timepiece like every other generic watch ad. It’s not like you don’t appreciate a sharp suit or a nice watch, you do - but it’s just not Dieter.

And it looks like the stylist heard your prayers.

Instead of a traditional two-piece, Dieter is wearing relaxed dress pants, a light knitted pullover tucked into them over a smart belt. Rounding off the ensemble is a smart knee-length black coat with sharp lapels. His signature sunglasses perch on the tip of his nose, his curls styled messily.

The sleeves of the coat are folded up to expose his strong hands, but what really catches your eye sits on his left wrist - a large, square-faced watch with a steel chain bracelet.

While you don’t count yourself a connoisseur, you know enough to recognise that this watch is the real deal. The time display is in refined Roman numerals, and an elegant moonphase complication sits at the top of the dial. The pièce de résistance is the small, circular window at the bottom of the face that offers a peek into the sacred inner mechanics - the tourbillon. Beneath the glass is a gorgeous criss-crossing of gold wheels, brass cogs, and silver springs, all tangled in perfect synchronisation, endless moving parts that tick and spin.

It is a beautiful watch, no doubt, and a hugely expensive one at that.

To your consternation, they’re letting him wear his ratty knitted bracelet he bought from a vendor on a farflung beach in Thailand on the same hand, as well as his rings with the black gemstones on his index and pinky fingers.

While unusual in theory, the contrast somehow pays off. The whole look just works - it’s Dieter. You could kiss the stylist on the mouth with joy even though your boyfriend is standing right there.

‘Sweetheart?’

Your eyes fall to Dieter’s palm, open and outstretched in invitation. Then they move just a few inches upward, lingering on the smooth steel encircling his wrist.

You swallow thickly and put your hand in his, letting him pull you onto your feet, knees wobbly. A shiver runs down the length of your spine when the watch brushes your skin.

It should come as no surprise to you that Dieter is just as good on the set of a photoshoot as a movie. He works the angles, ever aware of the lighting and the cameras, hitting pose after pose like the professional that he is.

The photographer’s assistant shows you the stills on a laptop as they snap. With the set outdoors in the dark, the raw lighting - bordering on harsh - lends a gritty overtone to the photos, the tone far more artistic than commercial.

There’s no tweaking of cufflinks or stale power posing here. Dieter’s smouldering at the camera, peeking through his hand while the watch takes centre stage. He’s raking his fingers through his hair, lips grazing the metal strap as he gazes into the lens.

But when he brings it to his mouth, biting the steel case with the pink of his tongue peeking through, your knees all but give out.

By the time the photographer yells it’s a wrap, you’re a mess. Tension hums under your skin and there’s a stickiness between your legs that puts you in a highly inconvenient position given that Dieter will be fully occupied for the next hour and a half. You adjust your dress as discreetly as you can, jumping when his palm lands warm on your back as he ushers you indoors before you can pull yourself together.

This party is not your scene. Formulaic pop music blares from the speakers, beautiful people mill about in sequins that sparkle under the disco lights and bounce off blindingly from mirrors everywhere you look. The only redeeming detail is the delicious champagne that flows liberally, at least that tempers the tedium.

Everyone wants a piece of him. Sometimes you find it hard to believe that this is the same guy who doesn’t know how to load a dishwasher. He handles the relentless demands with aplomb - a selfie with a fan here, a few words for New York Times Style magazine there, all the while performing for the live stream camera that trails two steps behind him.

You linger nearby, following discreetly while sipping on champagne. Even from a distance, the watch catches the light whenever he moves. Dieter notices you staring, jaw slack, more than once. But the harder you try to act normal, the more on edge you get. He sends you more than one quizzical glance over the top of his sunglasses, but with people buzzing around him like pesky wasps, it’s not until twenty minutes to midnight that he catches a break and drags you unceremoniously into the VIP bathroom.

The heavy oak door shuts out the blasted music as Dieter locks it behind him, wheeling you around with his grip on your elbows. ‘Alright sweetheart, what is it? Are you still mad about Pete’s party?’

You grit your teeth and force yourself to keep your eyes on his. ‘No.’

He sighs. ‘We can go afterwards. I told Pete we will, I just need to do this countdown thing and we can go right after.’

‘I said it’s not that,’ you insist, fighting the damn magnetic force trying to drag your gaze downwards.

Tugging you into his arms, Dieter traces his nose on your cheek. ‘C’mon sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you.’

Your voice trembles. ‘I’m not lying, I’m fine.’

Clearly unconvinced, he arches an eyebrow at you before pulling back, cocking his wrist to check the time.

The whimper slips from you without you knowing, suspended in the air between you that thickens instantly like some chemical reaction.

Dieter looks at you sharply. ‘What was that, sweetheart?’

You give in and take a peek at his watch for just one second, but he catches you - of course he does. A cocky grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he drawls, ‘What have we here - found a new accessory that you like the look of?’

You whine, a hot flush of embarrassment in your chest. ‘I don’t know why it turns me on.’

‘What does? The fact that I can tell time?’ he teases. Splaying his left palm on the nape of your neck, the cold bracelet of his watch caresses the side of your neck. ‘First my rings, now this? You filthy girl.’

‘I can’t help it,’ you gripe.

Knowing exactly what it does to you, Dieter takes another exaggerated look at his watch, head tilted to the side. ‘We have fifteen minutes. Can you be quick, sweetheart?’

At your desperate nod, he backs you up into the full-length mirror on the far side of the powder room before spinning you around, crowding you against the cool surface. His entire body engulfs from behind you as he trails kisses down the side of your neck, watching your reflection squirm in his grasp from the corner of his eye. With no preamble, he bunches your tight skirt all the way up your hips and tugs your panties to one side impatiently.

‘Look at how wet those panties are,’ he moans into your ear. ‘Have you just been standing there checking me out, rubbing your thighs together all this time?’

A gasp catches in your throat. ‘Yes.’

His left palm trails down your body, and you stare openly as the watch skims over your body, the hard steel scraping the swell of your cleavage as it descends. You’re panting by the time Dieter’s fingers slide along your folds until the tips nudge your slick entrance, a cry wrangled from you when the watch falls to the base of his hand and the strap grazes your clit. With a growl, he presses his inner wrist into the sensitive apex of your thighs. ‘Feel good, baby?’

You make an incoherent sound when two thick digits slip into your sodden pussy. ‘Oh fuck, yes, please.’

‘Rub that needy clit on my watch, sweetheart,’ he orders, dark eyes on you. ‘Smear yourself all over it.’

You mewl and do as you’re told. Riding his fingers, you feel every ridge on the watch strap as you grind into the smooth steel, your movements crude and fitful. Dieter has to hold you up with his free arm wound tight around your waist while your hands cling to the back of his neck.

‘Fuck, you’re getting so wet,’ he says through gritted teeth, as if in awe, and pumps harder into you. ‘Oh yes, I feel your cunt clenching around me, you’re close, aren’t you?’

You moan, words failing you. ‘Don’t stop, please -’

‘Fuck, baby, you’re getting my watch all wet,’ he grunts, pinching your chin between his fingers, making you look at yourself in the mirror. ‘See how it’s shiny with your slick? So fucking pretty, sweetheart.’

You feel another gush of arousal drip down his hand, and his watch slips, the bracelet catching your clit in an angle that makes your back arch. You cum hard, writhing desperately in his grasp as he whispers filth into your ear through your high. ‘So good for me, baby, that’s it, such a good girl, dripping all over my expensive watch, you filthy thing -’

Dieter nuzzles your neck as you catch your breath, the scrape of his beard on your sensitive skin making you tremble and squirm in his grip. He gently eases out of you, sucking his fingers clean before turning you around and kissing you slowly and deeply so that you can taste yourself on his tongue.

You’re still drifting in the aftershock when a frantic series of knocks on the bathroom door shakes you out of it. With an irritated snarl, Dieter barks, ‘What?’

‘Um, Mr. Bravo - we’re five minutes from midnight, you need to come out right now -’

‘I can read the fucking time,’ he snaps and gives you an apologetic kiss to the temple. ‘Sorry baby, work beckons.’

Your hand shoots out of nowhere to grab him, and locking your gaze with him, you drag the flat of your tongue across the damp strap, tasting yourself on the metal.

His nostrils flare and you can almost hear his jaw crack, pupils blown wide and black as you give him a wicked grin. Snaking one palm all the way down to rub his straining erection, you breathe into his ear. ‘I want you to stroke yourself until you cum all over that fancy watch later, okay?’

He groans, burying his nose in your hair. ‘How am I going to count down with this huge fucking boner in my pants, baby?’

You wink and give him a full-mouthed kiss. ‘Just think of it as a countdown to something else after.’

Dieter chuckles against your lips. ‘Happy fucking New Year indeed, sweetheart.’

Notes: I finally did it. A watch kink fic! Honestly, it's not as wild as it could've been, but damn I had the best time writing it. Thank you for reading, wishing all you wonderful people a very happy new year! ❤️

As soon as it was became clear from the results that NYE was going to be paired with the watch ad prompt, I just knew instantly I had to set it in a NYE party. Thank you Hayley @haylzcyon for this request that went perfectly with my idea:

ooohhh don't feel pressured to write this in if you do the NYE prompt but the idea of a swanky NYE party where reader and dieter get a little tipsy, sneak off for a quickie in a coat room or something and realize they missed the ball drop when they come back would be hilarious. dieter can't imagine a better way to ring in the new year than between your thighs 😏

[shadisaskyline]

Team Timepiece :3 Mystery dungeon time (plus individual pieces, I’m playing dolls with them)

The Mudkip (Maya) is mine, the Skitty (Sera) is @contrastparadoxx and the Chikortia (Chandan) is @haggardhawker

[peppermintquartz]

Arthur's watch doesn't actually work. He checks the time on his phone, like most people these days. The watch was a gift from his late grandfather. It is elegant - a rich brown leather strap, cream watch face, gold detailing. No numbers.

Eames is as surprised as anyone to discover that the watch doesn't tell the correct time, and then realizes that he has inadvertently found out Arthur's real totem.

He's torn between not telling Arthur, because Arthur hasn't noticed that Eames has stolen his watch, and telling Arthur that it's a stupid totem, because it can be easily stolen.

In the end he snaps his own watch back on Arthur's wrist and goes back to his room.

It takes two hours and seventeen minutes before Arthur knocks on the door irritably.

"Give it back," Arthur says.

"You need a new totem," Eames replies, dangling the purloined timepiece from its strap.

"It's not my totem." Arthur retrieves it and gives Eames back his watch.

"Then why doesn't it tell the correct time?" Eames wonders if his supposition was wrong. He thought that the watch only tells the right time in a dream.

Arthur squints at him, like Eames is playing checkers in a poker game. "It tells the time where my family is."

Eames never once considered that Arthur has surviving relatives. Or a family of any sort. Somehow Arthur, in Eames' very rich imagination, sprang full-fledged and fully clad in a three-piece suit, like Artemis from Zeus.

"Huh." He files that away in the meticulously organized mental folder marked ARTHUR.

*

Eames picks a hard candy out of Arthur's pocket and sucks on it - ooh, lemon - while the point man is putting up papers on the board. He's going to brief the team in ten minutes and Eames knows the job isn't one that requires their combined talents, but Ariadne asked it as a favor. She is the only other person in the world who Eames thinks is allowed to ask favors of Arthur.

Cobb can go to hell.

"Stealing my candy? That's low of you." Arthur doesn't even sound mad. He just looks disappointed.

Eames holds out a peace offering and winks.

Arthur narrows his eyes. "I don't want a Chupa Chup."

"Indulge me."

"I'll slur my words."

"I can present it. I know the stuff as much as you do, from all your mutterings and sketches."

Arthur takes the lollipop and rolls his eyes. "Don't fuck up the numbers." Then he gets to his chair and leans back in it, the lollipop swiftly unwrapped, and he closes his eyes to enjoy the sucker while the rest of the team saunter in.

*

Arthur is a point-man, which means Arthur doesn't know what to do with himself unless he has a goal to aim for. He finds the concept of free time abhorrent, somehow, like it is a waste not to be working to achieve some distant target.

Eames despairs of him some days. (Months. Years.) They don't always keep in touch, but sometimes Eames gets this tingling sensation that Arthur's working himself to the bone once more, and with some deft questioning of his questionable contacts, he usually finds out that's the case. Sometimes he intervenes by popping in to drag Arthur out on a wild goose chase, sometimes he sabotages the job if he thinks it smells fishy, sometimes he lets Arthur do what he does so damn well and sends him tickets to a Greek island after.

But this time, Arthur drops off the face of the earth completely.

So of course Eames goes looking.

*

Here's the thing: Eames knows that Arthur knows that Eames has a thing for him. Hard not to: Eames is very obvious about it.

And Arthur isn't all that subtle about letting Eames know that he's letting Eames bother and tease and make a nuisance of himself only because Arthur, at some level, enjoys it.

Eames finds Arthur in Winnipeg in the middle of a park, except Arthur is wearing a bright blue down jacket with a checkered scarf and he's drinking Starbucks - probably a simple mocha - and he's not Arthur, because the kids who are with him call him Uncle Levi, and Eames thinks he can't be more charmed in his entire life.

He takes a picture from his vantage point and goes back to his hotel, satisfied to have laid eyes on Arthur-who-is-Levi, and has room service.

Two minutes after midnight, he gets a phone call from Arthur.

"Delete whatever photo you took of my niece and nephew," Arthur says without preamble.

Eames hums, pretending to consider. "What do I get in exchange?" He can almost hear the frown on Arthur's handsome face, and smiles broadly.

After a while, Arthur asks, "What do you want?"

Eames wants to say, Everything you are willing to give me. He says, "Tell me if I'm good enough for you."

"Eames." Arthur sounds impatient and frustrated. "Eames, you idiot."

That's not a yes or a no. Eames takes out his poker chip and plays with it, the pad of his finger scraping along that smooth edge of the chip. Water running over stone, washing away its sharp edges.

Arthur's voice goes soft, but not shy. "Why do you fucking think I work so hard for? What you can do on instinct, I have to struggle to achieve in months."

Eames' smile grows. There it is. And he's found the chip in his token, that one bit that scratches the edge of his thumb. "Alright then. New Year's Eve, darling. You know where to find me."

[gumnut-logic]

Please sort these into ascending order: The amount of kittens that Virgil has rescued from trees. The amount of phone numbers Scott's gotten. The amount of sealife that Gordon has freed from nets. The number of stars that Alan has wished upon. The number of trolls who really, really regret any interaction they've ever had with JT5. 😘😘😘

The Interview

It has taken me some time to finish this one, and it refused to behave. Apologies for the delay.

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight and @gaviiadastra for read throughs and putting up with my crazy.

Also, thank you @flyboytracy for asking in the first place. you continue to inspire me :D

Some of you may have read the first couple hundred words already, as I posted the first tiny bit as a Thunderfam SOS earlier in the year, but there is now a good 2800+ words along side the beginning.

I hope you enjoy it. ::hugs you all::

-o-o-o-

“So, Virgil, all reports have you as the kindest and I quote ‘squishiest’ rescue operative in International Rescue. Your followers would like to know…” Kat peered down at her tablet. “How many kittens have you rescued from trees?”

The big man just stared at her. She had to admit, it wasn’t an every day question, but that was Tumblr for you.

“Umm…”

Alan snickered.

Scott frowned.

Gordon had a grin on his face fit to outshine the sun.

John rolled his eyes. “58.”

“Hey!” Virgil glared at his brother.

“Someone has to keep count.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

The astronaut straightened in his seat, obviously affronted. “What?”

“It’s 86.”

“What?!”

“Not every one was on the clock, John. What was I supposed to do, leave them meowing?”

Scott facepalmed.

“Eos, you were told to monitor.” John frowned at his suddenly glowing watch.

A female voice snarked through the timepiece. “I have my reasons.”

“Reasons?”

“Virgil does do our supply runs, you know.”

John’s jaw dropped and Kat was hard up trying to keep a straight face.

Gordon wasn’t helping with all the giggling either.

“Virgil, I thought we had that under control.” Scott’s voice was ever so tolerant.

“I do! That is over ten years. That is only eight point six cats per year.”

Gordon snorted. “How do you save point six of a cat, Virg? Wouldn’t call that a successful rescue, bro.”

“On average. And besides, sometimes it was the same cat.”

All four of his brothers were staring at him.

Virgil squirmed where he sat. “Mr Fluffy got stuck several times.”

“Mr Fluffy!”

“I repeat, what was I supposed to do? He’s Parker’s cat.”

Scott facepalmed again as Gordon cracked up laughing enough to almost fall off his chair. John appeared to be arguing with his watch, and Alan was tennis-spectating between each of his bothers apparently not really sure how to react at all.

Kat couldn’t help but smile.

This was an interview of a lifetime and would make her career, but she had to admit it went beyond all that. The five brothers were being alarmingly candid and she was concerned that the interview wouldn’t make it past IR security.

Kayo had seemed nice enough on the ranch, but here in the studio…the woman’s eyes tracked everything. She had a team in the building, who knew where, and as a group they were nothing short of terrifying.

A little bit overkill, Kat thought.

It wasn’t like they could be overheard.

The Tracys had decided to attend the studio, but under the rigorous eye of their security…which had scoured the place clean. Only Kat, her tablet, and two holorecorders were allowed in the soundproof room. And all recording would be reviewed by that same security.

If Kat was attempting to gut the Tracys like she had originally threatened to, this might have been a problem, but as hinted on the ranch, they were not who she had thought they were, and their answers only drew her closer to the idea that perhaps the world didn’t really deserve this amazing family.

“Okay, Fish, you think I’m hilarious. How many times have we had to stop on the way home to save some sea life? Not that I begrudge you, life is life, but….hey, what is the difference between fish and cats?”

Wow, Virgil knew how to frown when riled up.

Gordon grinned, unrepentant. “Probably the tree part.”

Virgil folded his arms and totally grumped.

“Gordon?” Scott’s voice had an edge to it Kat had heard in the field.

Uh-oh.

“Yes, Scott?” Gordon appeared oblivious, but John had looked up from his watch and was frowning as much as Virgil.

“How much sea life are we talking about?”

Gordon blinked and maybe picked up on the eyebrows aimed at him. “Umm…”

Scott straightened in his seat. “Thunderbird Five, report.”

John rolled his eyes again. “We’ve spoken about this.”

“Are we including Tracy Island wildlife in this equation?” The pert young female voice spoke from John’s watch again. Really, it appeared to be a Rolex, as expected for a billionaire, but it was obviously something else.

“I want everything, Thunderbird Five.”

“Six thousand, four hundred and twenty-three, with a margin of error equal to several schools of tuna and one mola-mola.”

“Hey, I saved that mola-mola.”

“The mola-mola didn’t think so. It bit you.”

“Mola molas don’t bite.” But Gordon had his arms folded, much like Virgil now.

“I beg to differ. That was three stitches.” Virgil’s frown almost split his face in half.

“You’ve been injured?!” Scott was at full glare.

“I was doing my job!”

“Your job is to save lives, Gordon. We don’t have the resources to-”

Gordon waved an arm and nearly hit Virgil in the head. “A life is a life, Scott!”

“We can’t save everyone!”

Gordon shot to his feet. “But we can try. You’ve said it yourself many times.”

“Gordon-“ Scott rose to his feet.

Which prompted Virgil to stand up, one hand going to Gordon’s chest, the other to his advancing big brother. “C’mon, guys.”

Scott’s eyes darted to Kat and she stared wide-eyed up at him.

Gordon continued to glare as Virgil hustled him back to his seat.

“We will discuss this later.” Scott was pointing a very pointed finger at his aquanaut brother.

“Sit down, Scott.” Virgil turned his eyebrows on his eldest brother and the man backed off. He obeyed, but was still glaring, this time at Virgil.

Kat had no doubt that there would be an extended discussion on this subject in their future.

She also made a note to check on the mola mola issue. Could be something of value in that angle. Perhaps a one-on-one interview with Gordon and saving sea life.

The men settled down under the glare of Virgil in the middle. At this point, Kat was grateful she had set the chairs up the way she did. Scott was on her left, followed by John – who was glaring and mumbling at his watch again – Virgil, Gordon and Alan.

Alan appeared to be stuck on the outside of this little circus.

Maybe she could fix that.

“So, Alan, your fans are a rather active bunch.”

The young man startled, his eyes widening like he was stuck in a spotlight. “I have fans?” It came out an octave higher than she expected.

She smiled. “You most certainly do. A very active and solid group actually. We have a number of questions from them.”

“Oh, um, fire away.” His smile was brave at least.

Kat was ever so aware of the eyes of his four eldest brothers now currently targeting her.

She got the message. Be kind to the kid.

Or else.

“Okay. You are known as the astro brother.” She could have said ‘astro boy’ but her survival instincts nipped it in the bud. “Several people would like to know which star is your favourite?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Mom’s star.”

The room froze.

Not that anything actually changed. No one moved or said anything. But...

Something walked across Kat’s skin, raising her hackles.

She knew the Tracy’s had lost their mother early on. It didn’t take much to confirm that, it was public knowledge. Alan had been one at the time. He couldn’t possibly remember her.

“Which star is your mother’s star?”

It was John who answered. “Vega.”

Alan blinked in his direction and frowned. “I can talk about Mom’s Star, can’t I?”

There was silence for a moment.

“Yes, you can.” It was Scott and his voice was emotionless.

Scott had been sixteen. He most definitely remembered his mother.

“John used to take me up onto the roof of the farmhouse and we would stare at the stars for hours. Did you know that Vega has five confirmed planets?” And Alan started talking astronomy – the star’s distance from Earth, its gravity, spin, the whole bit. Alan obviously knew his stars well.

But Kat was stuck on those five planets and she couldn’t help but glance at the other four brothers, all of whom would have been affected by the loss of their mother.

They all had their professional faces on and she knew she had lost the relaxed atmosphere. She needed to get back to a lighter topic or risk losing this interview completely.

She glanced at her tablet and scrolled through the many questions awaiting an answer.

She grabbed one. “Do you ever wish on any stars?”

Alan blinked at her. “Uh…” But then he frowned, turning to Virgil. “Hey, how can 86 cats be over ten years, Eos has only been with us for three!”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

“Yeah, I see what’s happening here. And you!” He pointed at Gordon. “That means…”

Gordon glared at his little brother. “That means I’m doing my job.”

There was an uneasy silence after that. Scott had his eyes on her. Blue lasering her every movement.

Kat swallowed. She was a professional. She had handled presidents and prime ministers…

Electric blue reminded her of exactly who she was talking to now.

She looked away and down at her notes. “Okay, onto another topic.” She forced a smile. “Many of these questions relate to your love lives.”

All the brothers sat us straighter, shuffling in their seats.

Scott’s gaze redirected like the high beam it was, directly onto each individual brother.

She straightened her shoulders. “You’re listed as the five most eligible bachelors on the planet. Any lucky prospective partners?”

The silence was a gaping hole in the room.

“Scotty’s had a few.” Of course, it was Gordon.

Every brother glared at him.

He held up his hands in an attempt at total innocence. “Hey, I’ve been there! Virg, too!” He elbowed the heavy lifter in the ribs. “You said he asked that pilot lady out while hanging off a cliff.”

Virgil was frowning again.

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Johnny! You have to have numbers on that. How many phone numbers does he have in his little black book?”

“Gordon!” Scott, Virgil and John were almost symphonic.

That quirky female voice piped up again from John’s watch. “53.”

“Eos! Stand down.” The Commander’s voice struck out.

There was a high pitched ‘hmph’ from John’s watch and light from the device died.

Kat was hard pushed to ignore the flush on Scott’s face. Was that a touch of embarrassment?

But it was Virgil who spoke. “Ms Kavanaugh, certain sacrifices are made to do what we do. I would appreciate some understanding.” He elbowed Gordon in the ribs, obviously in revenge and a touch harder than friendly. “My brother knows this.”

Maybe there was a reason why this family hadn’t done a proper interview together before. Alan was staring at his brothers again, this time with something akin to fear on his face.

It was Gordon’s turn to frown and fold his arms across his chest.

Virgil glared at him. “Not funny, fish.”

“Just trying to help.”

Kat began to wonder if there was any footage that could be saved from this interview. At this rate she had nothing other than rescuing cats from trees.

“So why do you do it?” The question tumbled from her mouth without thought, not without a little exasperation.

All five brothers sat up straighter.

Scott. “Because when you-“

John. “-call for help-”

Virgil. “-you deserve to know-”

Gordon. “-somebody is out there-“

Alan. “-listening.”

They spoke together, over each other, but all with the same words. The passion in the room was a living thing and Kat could feel the purpose.

“This obviously means a great deal to all of you.”

A single nod from the Commander. The soft smiling big brother she had witnessed earlier was gone and what replaced him was ever so formidable.

The brothers may play around, but underneath it all were five men determined in their mission. Five of the richest men on the planet willing to devote that wealth, and their lives, to helping others.

Those blue eyes glistened.

Kat found her heart beating ever so fast.

Someone cleared their throat.

She blinked and found it was Virgil. He had the smallest of smirks on his face and his eyes were dancing in the lighting. “Do you have any further questions?”

And she found herself blushing. “Uh, yes.” She fiddled with her tablet as she gathered her thoughts.

“John, there are a number of questions for you regarding the capabilities of Thunderbird Five, ranging from ‘seeing me waving at you from my backyard’, all the way up to playing the stock market and accusations of espionage.” She drew in a breath. “Do you have any comments?”

John was the quiet and serious one. Red hair and the most gorgeous green-blue eyes she had ever see on a man. Actually, come to think of it, all the Tracy men had fantastic eyes.

The Commander’s blue were still trained on her.

She kept her attention on John.

He was a bit of a mystery as the least seen in the media. He was the Voice Who Answers, the Eye in the Sky. She wondered how much he actually saw and heard.

The man was unruffled under her full attention. “I see and hear what I need to.”

She blinked. That was very precise wording.

“Do you miss being at the centre of the action?”

“What do you mean?”

“You live on Thunderbird Five, don’t you?”

“Yes. Some of the time.”

“You often have to watch your brothers step into dangerous situations. Do you ever want to join them?”

“I do join them when necessary, Ms Kavanaugh. I am as much a first responder as any of my brothers.”

Kat held up a hand. “I know that, John. Your speciality is space. But you often have to watch from afar. How do you cope with that?”

Alan bounced up in his seat, almost jumping to his feet. “John is with us all the time. Without him, there would be no rescues.”

“But he is stuck up on Thunderbird Five-“

Scott cut her off. “John is our communications expert. He works just as hard as any of us, sometimes harder. It is not an easy job.” His eyes flicked to his younger brother. “But John is the master of it.”

“But don’t you feel helpless being so far away, only able to watch?”

Alan snorted. “John does so much more than watch.”

She targeted the youngest. “Like what?”

“He helps all the time, he-“

“Alan.” It was a single word from the Commander that had her missing that big brother persona all the more.

“But he does!”

“Alan.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll shut up.” And boy, the youngest could throw a pout better than any of the brothers so far today.

She ignored it and focussed on John. “Your thoughts?”

“Ms Kavanaugh, I do what I need to do.”

“And what do you need to do?”

“What is necessary.”

“To save lives?”

The was the briefest of hesitations. Another journalist may never have noticed.

But she did.

His answer was simple. “Yes.”

“I have a Tumblr user who claims you reprogrammed his tablet from space and now it will only play nursery rhymes.”

Those green-blue eyes darted to his right. “Perhaps you should ask him why I did it.”

“Aw, c’mon, John, it’s been six years!” Gordon’s voice was a whine. “You mess up every new tablet I buy. I said I’m sorry.”

Virgil frowned at Gordon. Virgil apparently frowned a lot. “What are you doing on Tumblr?”

Gordon switched from John to Virgil. “Well, derr, it’s the only decent blogging platform left.”

Kat scribbled a note that @gordonthesquid was actually Gordon Tracy. Thinking about it, it was pretty obvious.

She turned back to John. “How many times have you done that?”

“As many times as it takes to stop Gordon from messing with my possessions.”

“Six years, bro!”

“You’re a slow learner.”

“Ass.” The aquanaut crossed his legs and arms and turned his back on John.

Between the two of them, Virgil sighed.

Kat made a mental note never to piss off John Tracy.

Those blue eyes still hadn’t left her.

Note to self: never piss off any Tracy.

Perhaps it was fate that broke both her legs and prevented her from screening her attack on the Tracys.

She had the strongest feeling that she would never have seen him coming and no-one would have found the bodies much less counted them.

John emanated quiet confidence…and power…as he held her gaze.

Perhaps she had better wrap up the interview.

“I have many other questions to ask, but I know it has been a long day for all of you, so one last question.” She drew in a breath. “Is it worth it?”

“Yes.”

“God, yeah.”

“Of course.”

“Always.”

Scott was watching each of his brothers as they spoke, but stared at them a moment longer before answering himself…ever so quietly.

“I hope so.”

-o-o-o-

[umgeorge]

We Sat Down With George Russell Ahead Of Grand Prix Weekend

Nothing beats the buzz you'll find in Melbourne ahead of Grand Prix weekend, but the energy in the room with George Russell-British racer who steers the mighty W15 for Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team-is nothing but relaxed. His green room is a cocoon of calm in an otherwise chaotic weekend of press, brand obligations, training, and, of course, actually driving the damn car come lights out on Sunday. Greeted with a cool fist bump ("You alright, mate?"), George parks himself across from me ahead of his appearance at the IWC Chadstone boutique that same evening. Smiles on, eyes attentive, and, of course, with his timepiece in full view of the cameras, we get straight into it with the man who's always on the clock, be it his own, the FIA's, or someone else's.

John McMahon: "George, give us your favourite moment from last season. If you had to pick just one." George: "Crossing the line in Abu Dhabi to secure P2 for the team in the championship, for sure. There was such a tight battle with Ferrari for a number of races and when we went into that race it was sort of me and Charles battling it out, then suddenly, Perez came through quick and he had the five second penalty and it went down to half a second. That was the difference between us finishing second in the championship or third in the championship, and that's 2,000 peoples' bonuses back at the factory, as well. So that was a relief to secure that result for the team."

JM: "What about the off-season? Favourite moment? Do you ever feel like you really switch off?" George: "I would say I managed to switch off for about a week during the off-season, which is pretty good, but I've always got racing on my mind and I'm always dropping my engineers messages and phone calls just with ideas I have of how we can improve. But I think my favourite moment was just seeing my niece and nephew. My sister had a child, as well, in the off-season, so that was a special moment. But just doing normal stuff, being a normal person is what I like the most."

JM: "So you wore a few different watches from IWC last year, but it looks like the one you wore the most was the Ceratanium Top Gun Double Chrono." George: "Yeah, that's my favourite by far. I love it because, when I joined Mercedes as a junior driver, that was the watch that I said I wanted, and when my first IWC arrived from the team it wasn't that watch. [laughs] And it was only three years later that I managed to actually get my hands on that watch when I could afford it and I was actually a part of the Mercedes team, so it means something to me. I think it just looks really, really cool, doesn't it? It's not too out there but it's got quite a sporty look to it, so you can wear it daily. It's my go-to."

JM: "If you had to pick a watch for traveling, a watch for the paddock, a watch for date night… where would you land?" George: "Hmm, for the paddock... Probably what I'm wearing currently, the new Mercedes team watch, the Performance Chronograph from IWC. It's similar to the Top Gun in terms of the colour and the style, but the Petronas green details add a layer of depth, so that would definitely be my paddock watch. Date night, probably the Portugieser Annual Calendar. Keep it classy." JM: "And travel?" George: "I really like the-I can never pronounce it as gracefully as the Swiss-Ingenieur. It's light, easy on the wrist, and fits under a cuff as well. For travelling you never want anything too bulky."

JM: "Last year you did probably one of my all-time bucket list experiences. You embraced the Top Gun ethos in a RAF Typhoon fighter jet. It's probably the only career that's faster than an F1 car. Did it ever appeal to you, that career?" George: "It never appealed to me, but since having the experience of… Well, firstly, I just thought I was going to be a passenger. I didn't know at the time they were going to let me fly, and getting the chance to actually fly it myself, I mean, experience of a lifetime, and would really love to get back up there, because it is like a Formula 1 car up in the skies." JM: "There are a lot of parallels, aren't there?" George: "It's so agile and quick. You've got the joystick in front of you, you just move it and the thing just rolls over instantly. It's the same with an F1 car, when you're traveling, you know, 330 km/h down the straight, you turn into the corner and you zoom immediately to the other side of the track. You're in the cockpit in both respects, but the team is like such a massive part of making that operation actually happen. There's so much camaraderie between everybody. It was like a family away from home as it is for us in Formula 1. Awesome experience, so yeah, a lot of respect for what they're doing."

JM: "The inverse of that: What's the most boring thing about being an F1 driver? You can say interviews like these, I won't be offended." George: "What do you think is the most boring thing about being an F1 driver?" JM: "Probably interviews like these, no? Being pulled left, right and centre the whole time. How about time on a plane?" George: "I want to do the numbers, but I reckon over the course of a year we would spend closing in on I'd go as far as almost a whole month on a plane. All of the flights within Europe alone, I'm doing probably five flights a week on average. There are 4,000 people who travel the world for Formula 1, and it's a very luxurious lifestyle on the face of it, but a lot of time away from home, away from loved ones, a lot of time zone shifts, brutal on the body, but you know we wouldn't change it for the world because we love what we do. It's the best job in the world."

JM: "Let's talk Vegas. It didn't go quite according to plan for you last year, but was such a momentous occasion for the sport and to be under the lights. Talk us through that first time you drove the car down that strip." George: "It was fast and bumpy, one hell of a ride. On the face of it the circuit seemed pretty underwhelming, but when we drove it, it had a huge amount of character. It was great for racing and it was very challenging to drive; really low grip. We were the only category racing, so the track was very green and dusty, so for drivers it was a unique challenge. I think in the race we were doing about 350 km/h. It was very difficult to spot the breaking points 120 metres out. When you're racing in the dark, you've got the buildings between you, all the lights at such wild speeds, it was surreal."

JM: "Aside from the obvious, do you have a personal goal for 2024 that gives us some sort of insight into the man that is George Russell? It could be getting better at Spanish on Duolingo…" George: [laughs] "My girlfriend would love that. No, just to enjoy the journey. I think it's so easy to get caught up in the competitive nature of the sport and the emotional rollercoaster that you go through, the highs and the lows. It's a psychological toll on the body, so you need to turn that into good energy and positivity, happiness, and that's what I'm gonna try and do a bit more of in 2024. We've all got this one life and you just need to maximise it and the days fly by."

JM: "On that same thought then, you've got the likes of Fernando, who we wouldn't be surprised if he's still racing when he’s fifty, and then you've got Nico, who's out on top after taking the championship. Are you a race until the body says no, kind of guy?" George: "I'll be here for a long time. I don't know what I'd do without it, to be honest. I'm not one of these guys who has all of these interests outside the sport. Some people need their passions outside to disconnect as a way of enhancing their performance on the track, and I respect that. For me, my life is racing. But I'm far from achieving what I set out to and believe I'm capable of. The seasons are becoming intense, very intense, and increasingly more challenging with the number of races. I'm fit and healthy and young at the moment, and I'm dealing with it absolutely fine, but I want to make sure that in ten years' time, when I'm 35, that I can deal with a 24 race calendar and I'm still fit and I'm still performing on the top of my game."

JM: "When you get off the plane here in Melbourne, what excites you most about the weekend ahead?" George: "Those first laps and the first practice. That's always a really exciting moment because you head into a race weekend with the unknown. We have an indication of what this weekend's going to bring. We're pretty confident a Red Bull is going to be at the sharp end of the grid. We don't know if we're going to be up there fighting with them, if we're going to be on the back foot, if the car's going to be performing well, if I'm going to be performing well, and those you get an indication after about three laps on track of how your weekend's gonna pan out and it's always a really exciting moment, the unknown. I just can't wait to jump into that car again."

[understandableparadox]

tHE HOMESTUCK OC TUMBLR POLL TOURNAMENT!!! YOUR CONTESTENTS!

@ineffable-gallimaufry

Tamiss Eriism

They're my trollsona! Here's the bio I used for art fight:

Your name is TAMISS ERIISM.  

Flowing through your veins is good thick VIOLET blood. While you don't care much for the hemospectrum overall, you still find yourself admiring the way it looks. You think it is VERY PRETTY, you love living underwater, and the perks it gives you are TRULY ENVIABLE.

Perhaps connected to your high status within the hemospectrum is your MASSIVE GOD COMPLEX. In your opinion, you might be the best person on the entire planet, maybe even better than THE CONDESCE HERSELF. Though you probably wouldn't say that to her face. You'll prove your great power one day by overthrowing her so everyone will respect you for your TRUE POWER. Though that's not making very much headway. Maybe some day though, with your SICKLE in hand, you'll finally prove yourself.

You are ever so slightly obsessed with CULINARY and CRYPTOGRAPHICAL HISTORY. You are in fact quite fond of most HISTORIES, and take an interest in many forms of the PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE. You even model many aspects of yourself after HEROES you saw in your books. One, a cobalt blood, gave you a great appreciation of SPIDERS AND ALL SORTS OF INSECTS, though your lifestyle gives you hardly any opportunity to view any for real. There was another from the same place on the hemospectrum as you who you also found REALLY COOL. He inspired much of your personality such as your INTEREST IN DRAMA, ROMANTIC NATURE, and AMAZING HAIR STRIPE. Sometimes you even feel like you can HEAR THEIR VOICES but that's probably normal. Despite how TOTALLY COOL you are, people hardly tend to notice you. Once your plans are complete though, that WON'T HAPPEN ANYMORE.

You also like READING TOMES OF KNOWLEDGE. Though most of the knowledge is either on BEING A HUGE LESBIAN or MATH YOU DO NOT QUITE UNDERSTAND. Or communism. It is quite a ball though.  

Your trolltag is atlanteanAscension and you speak iin a wway remiiniiscent 8f y8ur favv8riite her8es.

Halpetasprite

She's just like... well it's like if Lil Hal got tossed into Nepetasprite instead of Equiussprite. he/she pronouns. 

--------------------------------------------------

@vi-timepiece

Luciol Lanten

Limeblood, mutant, based off a firefly. The stripes on her body can glow. She/it, nonbinary. Enjoys stargazing. Matesprits with Vichtr Unikke 

Vichtr Unikke

Supposed to be goldblood, is blackblood instead because mutation. Has difficulty controlling psionics. He/they, trans man. Likes robotics. Matesprits with Luciol Lanten

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Starlight-prism.tumblr.com

Chylia Merian

Handle: achromaticAdversary

Classpect: Sylph of Doom (Derse)

Pronouns: she/they

Chylia is a hemoanonymous limeblood troll (dancestor ghost) who is great with survival and fighting thanks to the sabertooth lusus that miraculously saved her from culling. She's very competent and was the only member of her Sgrub team to reach god tier. But they also take themself too seriously in such a way that they wind back to being silly! Like half of the things they do are for the aesthetic, to be honest. They wear a dramatic black mask and cape, and they use a giant machine gun to feel powerful and edgy. They used to dye their hair fully black, but now they partially dye it so the white roots can be partially seen. Chylia is a total edgelord and I love her and I hope you do too after reading this!

Full information and backstory here, as well as more art: https://toyhou.se/23778562.chylia-merian

Erizoh Stilde

Handle: pincushionsApex

Classpect: Knight of Rage

Pronouns: he/him

Erizoh is a jadeblood who rejected the role of his caste from an early age, faking his culling upon receiving invitation to come live in hiding with the heiress instead. He took up the hobby of plushmaking at the heiress's suggestion, and he also dabbles in cross-stitch and crochet. He's honestly pretty pretentious about his art, and is kind of an asshole, but in a certain "wet-cat" way that makes people like him regardless. He has a weird fixation with his grubhood self, specifically stabbing a plush version of it with pins. He was the first troll OC I made, and he came from a dream where he was trying to sell me a cow plushie and guilted me into buying it. I love Erizoh, he's such a loser.

More information here, as well as more art: https://toyhou.se/22085532.erizoh-stilde

----------------------------------------------------------

Venom draws on tumblr

Garlik Femara

A 9ft tall purple blood

She isn't the brightest (bimbo energy) and is all around friendly

She was "brainwashed" by the clurch because they saw her as a useful asset but she did not want to be a subjugulator and was showing signs of rebellion.

She is a killing machine but the circumstances are very specific, he trigger is a list. Most specifically a list of names but if given any list something in her brain is triggered to bring forward the highblood rage.

Nahlee Rovian

He is just silly.

He is just a guy who would eat a slice of cheese off of the floor, cheese of unknown origin. 

He is a sweet and funny guy and is way too easily trusting. 

If this guy was a playlist it would be "weird al" and "ninja sex party".

He smells funny.

No rizz.

--------------------------------------------------------

@chococookiez

Novasu Kirazi

- not pictured: her limeblood matesprit who she would kill for

- would overthrow the government and destroy the hemospectrum if they could

- WILL defeat you with the power of friendship and a gun she found

Mauami Sigera

- who is this creature and how did it get here

- perpetual °^° face and may or may not have arms

- it's just trying it's best

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@thehomestucker-surgeburbofficial

Gaemir Jurami

Your name is GAEMIR JURAMI. 

You tend to enjoy things like DIGGING UP FOSSILS and PRESERVED ORGANISMS. You also like to COLLECT COOL ROCKS you find outside your hive. Occasionally you will BREAK THEM OPEN to see if ANYTHING IS INSIDE. You enjoy watching DRAMATIC AND SAD FILMS from time to time, as well as ROMANCE MOVIES. Your favorite actor has to be by far, TROLL TOM HANKS.

On DIGCORB, your trolltag is skeletalTragedy and you tend to speak R4ther dully. In short, brief sentences. Usu4lly in 4 very serious m4tter.

He/They

Ceferi Fetris

Your name is CEFERI FETRIS.

You enjoy GARDENING. Mostly things like PUMPKINS or BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS that you give to your MATESPRIT and MOIRAIL. You also enjoy STARGAZING. It never fails to relax you. You tend to DRAW WHAT YOU SEE in the stars as well. Sometimes it's just MEANINGLESS SYMBOLS, other times it’s FULL SCENARIOS. You may even indulge in your hobby of PHOTOGRAPHY and TAKE PHOTOS OF THE STARS too. You also have a BIG LIBRARY, full of FICTION BOOKS, mostly the GOOD SCI-FI ONES and MAGICAL STORIES of WIZARDS.

Your trolltag is floralGallery and you speak wit>h hope and beaut>y in your heart. Al>l> is wel>l> in t>he presence of you.

(SIDE NOTE: She Is Also A Trans Woman!!!) She/Vir

-----------------------------------------------

@spaceypineapple

Fendir Sanqui

fendir's a bronzeblood adventurer who idolizes troll indiana jones! hes got a pretty large collection of artifacts and loves learning about history. he also really likes myths and legends!! hes a very emotional guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, though he often (unintentionally) ignores the emotions of others. he's very very silly.

Trenas Maladi

trenas is a rustblood author who has the worst case of writers block ever seen. she's very tired all of the time and comes off a bit harsh, but she means well!! she's very nosy and knowing other people's business. she's very good at giving out advice to people too. she enjoys monsters and romance stories ABOUT monsters.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@hareofhrairHareofhrair

Shafan Nishal

Shafan has been around since 2015, making friends in the tumblr ftc! They're a Brer Rabbit pastiche, a laid back traveling musician, trickster and occasional smuggler, and they love nothing better than sharing a smoke, swapping a story, and stealing from rich folks. A more or less homeless vagrant they wander from place to place, breaking hearts and singing songs. They make friends wherever they go, but they have a powerful fear of commitment that keeps them from getting too close to anyone. As soon as someone starts looking too attached, they skip town, and boy can they run! Shafan is faster on foot across open ground than just about any troll alive, at least according to them, and they're always happy to prove it with a race. So if you've got a story to tell, a song to share, or you just need someone to deal you weed for a (mostly) fair price, look for the white haired rusty playing banjo on the corner and come say hello!

Popahv Arlech

Popahv came from an amazing homestuck ttrpg campaign called Binary System, which we even tried turning into a fanventure for a little bit there! Popahv is just a sweet little guy with some serious attachment issues. He loves his friends more than anything and thinks it's his responsibility to take care of them, whether they want him to or not. Add this to an exploit in the game giving him some extremely overpowered mind control powers, and Popahv becomes just a little problematic! He means well, honestly. He just wants everyone to be happy and peaceful and never ever leave him. Meet the original Friendship Yandere, Popahv!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mythfan12.tumblr.com

Meadys Serpin

A rustblood museum curator/rebel supplier, Sylph of Rage, living embodiment of customer service face hiding blind fury

Wessun Ghunne

Oliveblood living out in the desert since birth, Maid of Void, you know those background applications that you never see pop up but are vital to the computer running? that's him

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@ask-swagger-dagger-trolls

Taluco Ialens

First started as a Trollsona, but after a while turned into her own thing and became a Fantroll. She is a Mutantblood due to some deep lore which will take to long to explain. She is an Artist and a big fan of fruity drinks

Soyuka Detoxa

Soyuka was a former escort in a corrupted church, with the help of Taluco (First Character Entry), she was able to turn the once brothel into a proper place of worship. She managed to be quaded with a Death God and a Rebel Leader...so...bonus bragging points for her. She speaks Alternian Spanish.

------------------------------------------------------------

@dzcool3

Teranz Zitchk

he found his own corpse in the woods and that made him a channer. he taxidermies badly and hates everyone. has a real self-pity complex

Kizats Hatrak

a member of the troll men in black. a wildly incompetent bully who still manages to make and believe wildly inaccurate conspiracy theories despite being behind many herself. She knows shes kind of a terrible person.  

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

@sekhmentson

Cysgod Quared

Mad scientist

Betroy Focalx

Local Horoscope Writer

---------------------------

@tasonix10 for tumblr and Tasonix12 on Twitter 8-]3

Noizod Explos 

Noizod Explos is the dancestor of Terriy Explos (My trollsona). Noizod is a troll with an interest of the weird and mysterious, mainly in mad scientists and old food mascots! Noizod is a heir of time/heart, a derse dreamer, And A rust blood. Their typing quirk is misspelling words sometimes and replacing every 7th word with the number 7.

Noizod has low psionics, yet is cursed with the visions of the past, which has led them to try and be like their ancestor, the Observer.

Noizod’s strife Kind is A yo-yo, and lacks a lusus.

Turpen Cansoi

Turpen Cansoi is an indigo blood that owes money to higher bloods, and because of this he’s been DEMOTED TO LOWER CASTE STATUS. Now he lives his life as a low caste blood and tries to make a Quick buck for a living. Turpen is either a maid/Page of breath And a derse dreamer.

There’s Not that much about Turpen other than that. Except the casino theme and being The Session starter, thus Why his trollian Tag is “wheezingCoupier”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@ethersmith

Sutoka Reddol

4 foot 5. Lesbiab. About 9 sweeps old but sgrub.

A rustblooded thief and thief of void skilled in pocketpicking, lockpicking, parkouring, sneaking, knife throwing, yoyo tricks and flute playing. She happens to possess psionics that let her hide her horns and grip onto surfaces. She's also immune to most poisons. Except alcohol. She'll pass out at the slightest sip of alcoholic beverages. Gunfire stuns her. Her lusus is a rat and her typing quirk adds a lowercase letter after a capital letter. Llike Tthis.

Eeliza Lindel

8 foot. 11 sweeps old.

Just about the least competent fuchsiablood to live twice. Her skills include being okay at leadership, insulting lower castes and making enemies. Formerly the heiress of her planet Liesteria, now the boss of a mafia known as the Kalpon gang. Her lusus is a big ol' gaggle of eels that do not make the same enemies as her. Her quirk surrounds individual words in square brackets and duplicates the letter e.

---------------------------------------------------

@waffletardis

Sarnen Rambuc

Sarnen is a talented prankster, thief, and craftswoman. She mostly tinkers but loves to try inventing her own machines, staying positive throughout the trials and errors. Her favorite prank involves the use of her robotic hands hidden under her gloves, they are detachable, so imagine someone’s surprise when they try to give her a handshake and they seemingly pull her hand straight off! Despite her apparent hunger for shenanigans, she genuinely cares about others, and no one will earn the ire of her foolery unless they are rude to someone she cares about. (Such as her matesprit, she loves her matesprit so much she will not hesitate to tell someone about her matesprit) 

Idzill Stoatl

Idzill has a passionate love for art, and can be seen displaying many skills of the craft. Although Idzill is also quite impatient if they are not actively doing anything, and usually goes straight from a zero to one hundred when trying to solve a problem. Tongue gets stuck on something frozen? Try to skillfully use a knife. Art not making the money you want? Go straight to becoming a vigilante assassin… Idzill uses their dexterous skills to be quite the terrifying assassin, though they try their best to only accept hits for people they would consider bad. Idzill does not speak and uses signs 🪧 with their quirk painted onto them to communicate, that’s one way to view sign language i suppose…

----------------------------

Part 1

[tiftaf-the-world-jumper]

I wrote a new fic! It’s under the cut

Ratchet let out a growling sigh as he answered the stupid device that had been practically ringing off the hook all morning.

“Yes? This is Autobot Chief Medical Officer Ratchet speaking; what is the nature of your call?” The orange and white medic grumbled.

“Hi. It’s the leader of rescue bot team sigma 17. Optimus is acting WEIRD. As in- WEIRD weird.” Heatwave explained from his end of the call. “He keeps mumbling to himself and staring at this shiny pocketwatch we found a couple days ago. He says that he’s fine, but this isn’t normal behavior. Do you think you can talk with him as soon as he gets back from Griffon Rock?”

“That is… highly concerning. We’ve observed some anomalies but nothing with that level of persistence with one object. I’d like to personally meet with him as soon as possible for further analysis and to take a look at that timepiece. Are there any other peculiar symptoms or changes to Optimus?”

“He’s been giving mirrors and mirror-like surfaces a nasty amount of side-eye. Like he’s got a bone to pick with his own reflection.” Heatwave described.

“That’s even more concerning. Keep monitoring in case of further strange behaviors and I’ll go meet up with him as soon as possible, thank you for the warning. Oh, did Optimus have any specific destination or time frame on when he’d be back on base?”

“In half an hour.” Heatwave answered. “I just wanted to give you a heads up just in case it was serious or something.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon.” Ratchet grumbled before hanging up and immediately heading out to find Optimus.

This was the first time he heard about Optimus not being okay and having such bizarre reactions in front of reflective surfaces and a pocket-watch, two factors he personally knew very little about and were concerning. His anxiety and unease grew with every step he took towards his destination, his thoughts flooding his head with various bad things that could happen… and how to fix them.

Sure enough, there was the Prime walking through the GroundBridge portal half an hour later.

“Ah, hello Ratchet.” Optimus greeted with a calm smile. “You are not at your usual station. Missed me that much did you?”

The Autobot CMO’s poster STIFFENED the moment upon seeing Optimus. He couldn’t help but feel his stomach drop and his heart skip a beat as he took in the sight before him. There was something… different about Optimus that Ratchet couldn’t quite explain. It took a moment for Ratchet to regain his composure and respond to his old friend.

"Very much so, yes. How was your trip to..-? Wait. Do you feel alright Optimus?" *Ratchet asked with a nervous edge to his voice*.

“I am well old friend.” Optimus answered with a confused tilt of his head. “Is something the matter? Did something occur here in Jasper while I was on my trip?”

“No but... I’ve heard word of you acting... odd lately. The RescueBot team was concerned about you not being yourself and having some... strange behaviors as of late.” Ratchet admitted reluctantly, unsure of how exactly to word or ask his old friend this.

“Ah. I see.” Optimus said sheepishly. “I had assumed that I had been being subtle… it seems I had failed in that regard.”

The medic hesitated for a moment, before deciding to just ask. “I’m sorry to be the one to ask this but... What exactly is going on? The RescueBot team mentioned something-something about a pocket-watch and reflective surfaces?”

“Well, you see…” The Autobot leader said with a sigh. “I have recently unlocked a new ability within the matrix of leadership. One that allows me to see and to converse with my predecessors.”

A wave of relief washed over Ratchet as he exhaled a bit. It was just as he expected, something Matrix related, not any form of psychological or mental problems.

“That would explain the mirror and reflection things then. You’ve been conversing with the previous Matrix bearers?” The Autobot CMO inquired.

“Indeed.” Optimus confirmed. “The telepathy seems to be limited to highly reflective surfaces, as strange as it may sound.”

“That makes sense.” The medic replied as he paused for a moment once more before making another inquiry. “And what of the pocket-watch? Are your predecessors telling you to do something with it?”

“One of my predecessors is trapped within it.” Optimus Prime explained. “Somehow my opening of its casing unlocked my ability to see through the- I believe they referred to it as ‘the mortal veil’?”

This disclosure of information sent a cold shiver down the Autobot’s spine. The idea of one of the previous leaders of their entire race being trapped inside a pocket watch and now being in Optimus’ possession was incredibly discomforting. Ratchet felt a heavy burden suddenly appear on his shoulders knowing that this now fell on his and his friends hands, as much as he wanted to get to the bottom of this matter.

“Which predecessor is trapped in the pocket-watch?”

“Not one of the original thirteen as one would expect.” Optimus replied as he and the cmo made their way to the med-lab. “But rather the direct offspring of two of their members. She isn’t listed in any of the archival records I have read.”

This revelation shocked Ratchet, as he wasn’t even aware of a 14th previous Prime even existing. His interest in solving this mystery only grew as more information was revealed from Optimus.

“A descendant of a Prime? Are you sure? That should be impossible, there were only ever 13 and-? Wait... The offspring of two different Primes?” Ratchet blurted.

The prime cleared this throat, clearly mentally prepping himself for the next sentence he had to say. “The archaic versions of the legends were quite accurate when it came to Solus Prime and The Fallen’s… more ‘romantic’ endeavors.”

Silence. That’s all that could be heard in the area following Optimus’ explanation to his old friend. Ratchet could not even begin to wrap his head around what he had just been told. What he was told felt... surreal, impossible, and yet, he got told it straight from Prime himself.

“So not only is one of previously unknown Primes descendants trapped in your pocket-watch...” The Autobot CMO began to stammer as he grasped for words.

“She has been in there for quite some time.” Optimus said softly while glancing at the golden timepiece that he was holding ever so gingerly in his servo. “I have been conversing with her the most. She sounded rather lonely when I first opened the watch.”

“I’ll bet. After all, it cannot be easy to be trapped in a pocket watch for presumably many centuries.” The Autobot medic’s gaze followed Optimus’ to his servo before he turned to look away and exhaled one longer, slower breath.

“Do... YOU know who exactly she IS?”

“She is named Holos.” Optimus answered as they reached their destination.


“She is quite the conversationalist and is the creative sort, always pointing out little things that catch her interest that others would often not notice or pay attention to. Out of all the activities that she has missed the most, creating art has been on the top of her list.”

The information being given to him felt comforting. It was nice to hear about Optimus’ conversations with this mysterious descendant. Even though he was curious in getting to the bottom of this issue, hearing about Optimus simply beaming while conversing with Holos made Ratchet a bit happier. However, the more information Optimus gave the more questions that were also being raised in his mind.

“Well, that’s good to hear that she’s getting along well while in her trapped state.”

“Pardon me for the sudden change of topic-“ Optimus inquired with a raised brow ridge. “Have you been having your full energon rations as of late?”

Shit.
Prime wasn’t supposed to know about the only drinking half rations thing!
Ratchet could’ve SWORN he had left no trace!
How the pit did the Autobot leader figure it out??

The medic couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment and freeze up out of surprise that Optimus was aware of that bit of information. How-? How did he know?

“Ah-... yes... er-... no! Not at all! why do you ask?” Ratchet asked cautiously.

“Holos has apparently seen fit to tattle.” Optimus Prime answered with a frown of concern. “Old friend, you do not mean to say this is true do you? That you are starving yourself to try to slow our fuel shortage? Are you attempting to be deceitful?”

Silence. The Autobot’s CMO froze in place, unsure how to respond to Prime’s inquiries. Did she really snitch on him? To what level of detail did she give away? Was he caught off-guard? After a few seconds of silence, Ratchet’s eyes slowly met Optimus’ and he began to speak.

“Yes… I... I’ve resorted to reducing my energy consumption in order to help with the energon rations until the issue is resolved. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Oh Ratchet…” Optimus murmured as he put a hand on Ratchet’s shoulder pauldron and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You did not have to do that to yourself. We could have found another way, I am certain of that. We need our team at our best, that includes YOU.”

His body felt a strange wave of relief as he was reassured by his friend. His plating flattening slightly in a sign of submissiveness and he looked over at Optimus with his expression of worry replaced with a relieved one.

“Thank you Optimus.” He replied warmly as he took in a deep breath. “I will refrain from taking this measure from now on. Just a-... A thought came to mind. What exactly did she tell you?”

“She said ‘your grumpy friend is experiencing toddler hours. He needs a snack and a nap pronto. His spark colors are weird from my point of view and I think that’s why’.” Optimus explained with a small smile.

The Autobot CMO was taken aback by Optimus’s accurate description of Holos’ words, his expression changing from worry to absolute shock. He immediately began chuckling and snickering to himself.

“Toddler hours?! That is accurate but I’m a little offended that she said I need a snack and a nap.” Ratchet joked.

“Holos is… rather creative when it comes to describing various phenomena.” Optimus chuckled.

“That is definitely an understatement.” The medic let out a light-hearted chuckle of his own in return.

“But all aside. She could have used some more tact with the way she worded that. I mean how hard is it to say ‘Ratchet’s experiencing a slump in energy production’?” He joked further.

“She says that she’s more used to the human/organic mindset.” Optimus said with a smirk, placing the watch on the examination table. “The second reason she just gave for describing you that way? ‘Because it sounded funnier’.”

Ratchet let out an audible groan as Optimus said that. She was the type to be quite literal with her words and actions, but at least he could admire her brutal honesty sometimes.

“Well, I suppose that makes sense. Although, she isn’t wrong. I could definitely do with a nap and snack about now.” He admitted with a faint smile.

“Agreed.” Optimus said with a nod as he went to grab a couple glasses of energon from the medical bay’s ice chest. “As would I.”

The Autobot medic was relieved to find that Optimus was willing to take his own advice and was also in need of a snack and a nap. He grabbed his glass from Optimus and drank down the refreshing energon and sighed in relief.

“That is what I needed… Thanks Optimus.” He muttered contentedly.

“You’re welcome old friend.” Optimus replied lazily while sipping his own ration.

After a few minutes of comfortable quietness, the prime spoke up with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Hm. As blunt and silly as my predecessor is, she did really have a point. Everybot needs a time of rest and rejuvenation every so often. This is rather nice.”

The medic nodded in response as he rested against the examination table, his eyes drooping a little bit with tiredness and his energy reserves rising slowly.

“I completely agree, I could get used to this. I do feel... nice. Relaxed. I suppose she is indeed correct in stating that the most common form of rejuvenation is a nap and a good snack.”

“Mmn~.” Optimus hummed out in agreement, seemingly not far behind his friend in the feeling sleepy department.

The human children were at school, the rest of the team was out on patrol, and no Decepticon detection alarms were going off…

The Autobot medic felt a wave of tranquility wash over his body and his ears and crest drooped down with his eyelids, slowly closing. His breathing grew heavier and his body became more relaxed with each passing second. The feeling was so relaxing it was borderline intoxicating. He felt his body slowly sink into a semi-conscious state. His eyes began to flutter rapidly beneath his eyelids as he began to doze off. The last thing he was able to perceive was Optimus’ gentle, soothing breathing and the soft white noise of the air conditioning.

[the-astral-idiot]

Timepiece, Time-Bending Thief

Clocking in from Vietnam, the gentleman thief Timepiece bends time itself to push fights in his favor. Whether he’s rushing it forward to move his team ahead or slowing it down to halt his opponents, he’ll get any job done smoothly. 

Another Valorant OC! Made this guy when Iso was revealed and I was desperate for Viet rep. He's a time-bending Initiator all about altering speed and gameplay momentum. Posting now because he's fun and I made another with the release of the new episode. Voice lines come tomorrow when I have the time to port them here.

abilities lore and more under the cut:

Back View:

Callsign: Timepiece

Codename: Hourglass (I MADE THIS BEFORE THE LORE STUFF ALRIGHT)

Real Name: Lý Mạnh Thuận

Role: Initiator

The 26 year old Vietnamese thief was once a high-class heir with a disdain for the excessiveness of his peers and too much time on his hands, not aided by his mild Radiant power to manipulate his own reaction speed. One day, on a random solo trip, he found himself at an ancient site and stumbled upon a special necklace which resonated with his radiance. It attached to him and enhanced his power, giving him the ability to warp not only his own reaction time, but time itself. With his new power and his access to high places due to his family status, he began a life of crime, becoming the luxury thief Hourglass. Later, he was tracked down and caught by the Valorant Protocol. With a little convincing, he was recruited as their newest agent, Timepiece.

Timeline (hah)

2024: Thuận is born to a wealthy fashion designer and a shareholder. From an early age, perhaps his pre-teen years, he develops an extreme distaste for his upper-class life, due to a mix of disliking the excessiveness and attitudes of his peers, the frequent absence of both of his parents, and the stress of being the sole heir of both family lines.

2039: First Light, Thuận is 15.

2042: Thuận develops mild Radiant powers after a brief illness from Radianite exposure, granting him the ability to manipulate his reaction speed.

2044: Thuận, on a solo trip in the nature of Vietnam, finds a small, secluded ruin. Inside, he finds an Artifact necklace, which resonates with his already existing Radiance and promptly snaps around his neck, amplifying his powers greatly, resulting in him gaining the power to manipulate time.

2045: Thuận gets into a massive fight with his family due to the strain that had grown in their relationship. As a result, and due to his dislike of his social class, Thuận decides to do something against those of his class, mostly out of spite and boredom. With his access and knowledge of high places and his Artifact-enhanced radiance, he began a streak of thievery as the luxury thief, Hourglass.

2050: By this point, Thuận had become an infamous thief with an incredibly high bounty, known for his mysterious methods and grand thievery jobs. This caught the attention of the Valorant Protocol. With some research and recon, they tracked him down and discerned his powers. Sending out a strike team to capture him during his greatest heist yet, after a long battle, they managed to finally capture him. Brimstone then offered him a new job: being an agent protecting Radianite from Omega Earth. He readily accepted the change of pace and out-of-jail-free card, becoming the agent Timepiece.

Abilities

C - Just A Moment

IMMEDIATELY remove 5 seconds from the round timer and shorten any nearby timers, including ally ability cooldowns, enemy ability durations, and effect durations.

Q - Wind Up

EQUIP a temporal charge. FIRE to grant a firing and reload speed boost to all nearby teammates.

E (Signature) - Waste of Time

EQUIP a temporal charge. FIRE to throw it out. Any enemies it touches while mid-air are slowed greatly. If the charge hits the ground before touching someone, it’ll stay on the ground as a destructable trap that slows nearby enemies when triggered.

X (Ultimate) - Beat The Clock

EQUIP a charged temporal core. FIRE to freeze time for a few seconds after a brief wind up. For the duration of the Ultimate, the round timer is frozen, and all active abilities are slowed immensely, as well as the speeds of all enemies, including movement speed, firing speed, reload speed, switch speed, and ability casting speed. Timepiece and his teammates can move freely and are invincible the duration of the ultimate, and for a few seconds after, but cannot act otherwise.

Extras

He likes time puns.

Incredible with sleight-of-hand.

Gets along with the other artifact users (Astra, Harbor, and Yoru).

Voice Lines