#my writing and fics

[cyanide-latte]

TWST ficlet: Happy Birthday, Idia!

Words: 1,990

Warnings: None (though this does end sort of abruptly, oops. Also if you squint, you can technically see those hints of Phoenix Fire shipping.)

Characters: Idia Shroud, Ortho Shroud, Wei Renqiao (my OC), Oisín Anbás cameo (@tixdixl 's OC)

Ignihyde dormitory wasn't known for having the most lively students among its number. They were notoriously reclusive, almost to the same degree that they were known for their diligence. But, with the event of their Housewarden's birthday upon them, a low buzz of chatter accompanied the normal hum of technology typically heard in those halls. The subject of the conversation remained tightly shut up in his room and as such all the dormmates felt the need to—all things considered—exchange their thoughts on the matter, if only in brief.

And only briefly; many of them had long since learned to avoid the decided wrath of Ortho Shroud and keep any disparaging opinions about Housewarden Idia quiet around him.

The younger Shroud in question was preoccupied, as it was, alongside his dormmate Oisín Anbás as the two of them assisted a third dormmate who was, yet again, biting off perhaps a bit more than he could chew.

The finishing touches really didn't need to take this long. Really, he could have counted his work done a week before. But Wei Renqiao was nothing if not thorough, and he took immense pride in his work. He was finishing up the final adjustment—it had to be just right—and barely even glancing up as he gently instructed his two friends where needed to tend to the food being cooked. It had taken so many months of hard work, but…but…

There. Finished at last.

"Wow…You look pretty proud of yourself, Ren!"

He shouldn't have startled at the comment but he did, and had to take a second to re-center before he offered a smile at Ortho.

"I suppose I feel entitled to, in this case," he answered, lifting an eyebrow. "With how much time I've put into making this."

"Can we see first?!"

[I'm sure you'll see it before long, Ortho,] an electronic text-to-speech voice interjected as Oisín spoke up. [But I would also like to take a look before it disappears into Idia's room forever.]

Ren didn't miss the accompanying "OwO" face that followed the last remark, and let out a soft chuckle. As if he wouldn't have shown the two of them before handing over his gift. Not when they were the only two who actually knew about it. Without another word, he stood and unfolded his project for them to behold, immensely pleased when he saw their reactions.

"That's amazing! He's gonna love it, Ren, I just know it!"

[He ought to; knowing him, he's going to see it and realize just how much you put into it.]

It was an effort for Ren to keep the smug sense of satisfaction off of his face. Having the reassurance and praise of the two of them only drove it home for him that he'd made the best possible call for a gift.

The only thing left to do was present it to the recipient.

"Thank you both again for the help," he added, turning to nod at the food they were still tending. "This shouldn't take too long, and then we can serve that up."

[Not to worry,] Oisín responded. [We have this covered until you get back.]

"I know you do," Ren said, and this time he didn't keep the smile off his face as he folded the gift back up and began to head down the hall. "Why do you think I asked you two in the first place~?"

Okay yeah, he was definitely letting some of that smugness slip out.

Without another word, he stalked down the halls with his head held high and his gift secure in his arms. Truthfully there was some part of him, deep down, that was anxious over the possibility of his hard work being rejected. Saying he'd spent months on it was no exaggeration; in fact, it was closer to an entire year, given when he'd first been struck with the idea for the gift coupled with the fact he had to learn entirely knew skillsets in order to make it. Still, he'd put everything into it and he knew Idia well enough to be sure he would recognize the effort.

The conversation between dormmates was dying down, and much of it cut off abruptly as he passed. Ren struggled to hold back a sigh of exasperation. Over a year of sharing space with these guys and still they flinched away like they were expecting him to suddenly lunge at them. It wasn't like it was his fault he looked the way he did. Still, maybe for once this wasn't a bad thing, since it meant they'd likely shut up and back off of Idia.

He found himself outside the door in question shortly, and braced himself for…well, sadly, the usual. Given Idia's grumbling for the past month, Ren anticipated he probably wasn't hoping to treat the day too differently from normal. Actually no, scratch that. Good chance he'd act more antisocial than usual because of what day it was. This time Ren did sigh, but raised his hand and knocked on the door all the same.

There was a loud "eep!" from inside, followed by the barest hint of muttering Ren couldn't make out the words to. Yeah…yeah. He'd called it.

"It's just me," he said loudly, letting some light irritation enter his voice. "Can I give you your gift, or am I going to have to ambush you at some other time?"

A long pause followed, and Ren swore he could feel a sense of embarrassed guilt emanating from the other side of the door. Eventually, he heard a soft shuffling sound, and then the door slid open with a whooshing hiss. Amber eyes framed by gently undulating flame-like hair looked up at him apologetically from where Idia cringed and hunched by the door.

"H-hi, Ren…" he whispered. "You didn't- I mean, y-you—"

He gave the elder Shroud brother his most unamused, withering look, and Idia's mouth snapped shut with another squeak of alarm.

"Do us both a favor, and don't be ridiculous," he said, ducking his head a few inches and entering the room. The door whooshed shut behind him and Idia retreated a couple of steps, shuffling his weight anxiously from one foot to the other. "You know I'm not going to try to force expectations on you like someone from other dorms."

He avoided saying Riddle's name specifically, but he was sure they both instantly thought of him, given the brief flash of annoyance that crossed his Housewarden's face. Still, it vanished quickly and Idia simply nodded. He knew full well that Ren was more than willing to work within whatever accommodations he needed or requested, and as such, there wasn't going to be an imposition on his time or comfort, especially not on a day like his birthday.

"So, uh…"

Ren didn't miss the look he gave the bundle in his arms, and already he saw Idia's eyes widen. Willing himself to keep his face neutral, he extended the object towards him and simply said, "Happy birthday."

Idia didn't even show an ounce of hesitation as he took the tapestry and unfurled it, lifting it high so he could see the full design. It was sideways, so he had to adjust for a moment, and that allowed Ren to really take in the growing expression of awe and slack-jawed excitement on that thin, pale face.

"Th-this- this is—!"

"The Sled Over Heels season two frame from the episode where Ai won the unofficial race against her rival Tsubaki from the Shaftlands? Yes."

It wasn't just the frame from the episode that everyone loved and referenced as the "victory" frame; that one simply depicted Ai, battered and bruised but triumphant, punching the air and grinning the grin of someone who never had the intention of losing a confrontation to a rival with warped scruples. Everyone knew that frame, and pretty much everyone referenced it. But that wasn't Idia's favorite frame from that particular episode. No, he loved the specific scene of victory, the gorgeously painted moment where Ai swooped in for a last-second win, face full of determination and wildness as her sled sent up a spray of snow while balanced heavily on only one runner. He'd gushed at length about that scene and the sheer beauty of that painted cel, that moment, the emotion it evoked.

And at the time he'd talked to Ren about it, the other young man had known then that nothing else would do. It was highly unlikely the actual animation cel was floating around out there for purchase (and even if it had been, it was no contest that Idia probably could have more easily bought it for himself than Ren could have bought it for him,) but that was fine. Ren would dedicate himself to recreating it to the best of his ability, and he had.

"This is mixed media."

"Excuse me?"

Idia moved his arms to give the tapestry the gentlest snap for emphasis. "This!" he said. "There are a few different techniques that went into making this. This wasn't just something you took a screenshot of and shipped off to a company that makes print-on-demand merch." He paused, then lowered the tapestry slightly and gave Ren a searching look, a rare moment of direct eye contact. "You sew? Screen-print? Embroider? What all went into this? I didn't know you could do any of that."

Ren tilted his head, folding his arms and arching a brow as he did so. "Interesting assessment of what you see," he remarked. "Right about some things, slightly off the mark on others. And I didn't say anything because everything I did here other than the most basic of sewing skills, I had to learn to do to make it."

Idia frowned, like he was about to ask exactly what he'd gotten wrong in his guess, but instead turned his attention back to the tapestry and continued to look at it. He stayed quiet for a bit, the awe still present in his expression and bearing, even as he studied what he saw like he was trying to mentally pull it apart to examine all the pieces. This time, rather than the smug pride, a warmth settled into Ren, a sort of relieved, quiet joy that his gift was being received even better than he could have hoped for.

"You just…learned different techniques to make a fanmerch tapestry?"

"If it was worth acquiring the skills for, why not? I can always use them again later."

"How long did you work on this?"

"Started maybe a week after you had that long talk where you told me about that particular frame of animation."

Startled, Idia half-jumped and looked up again, eyes going wide.

"Wait, that means you would have had to have been working on this for close to a year!" he blurted out.

"Just about," Ren confirmed, lifting his shoulders in the barest casual shrug.

This got a ducked head as Idia brought the tapestry up to his chest and mumbled a thank-you that, quite frankly, Ren allowed some selective hearing to filter out the self-depracating, you-shouldn't-have-wasted-this-on-me, I'm-undeserving tone and utterances.

"You're welcome," he answered, turning to head back to the door. "By the way, we made ginger garlic noodle soup, if you want any before you get too deep into a raid or quest."

He saw Idia's head jerk back up. "Wait, was that what I was smelling when you stepped in? You made that soup too?"

Ah, yes, there it was. No matter how much he wanted to be left alone, not even Idia could resist the siren call of one of his favorite dishes from Ren's hometown.

"Happy birthday, by the way," Ren answered, grinning in an unspoken challenge as he left the room to head back to the kitchenette, not needing to wait around to hear Idia rushing to put on slippers to follow.

Taglist: @elenauaurs @inmateofthemind @ramshacklerumble @tixdixl @winterweary

@distant-velleity @rainesol @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @twst-migraine

@natsukishinomiyaswife @the-trinket-witch (DM me if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist for my TWST OCs stuff)

Dividers used

[balrogballs]

i'm a writer irl (can't say who because my agent would rightfully put me into a blender and press the button if i go and out myself as "balrogballs") and honestly the funniest and most humiliating incident of my life was the time my finished manuscript triggered a plagiarism flag with the publisher for two lines of prose in my literary fiction novel...

.... which was word for word similar to a paragraph in a certain explicit work on FFN starring elrond and his batsman from the hobbit films, aka that one elf that looked like he ate panic attacks for breakfast (i forget his name but it's Figwit II) where the lord of imladris bends said twink over his writing desk and gives him the battering ram treatment.

and if you think i had to sit in front of one if the biggest publishing companies in the world and admit that it was, in fact, me who wrote the fic where the lord of imladris bends said twink over his writing desk and gives him the battering ram treatment in order to avoid being wrongly flagged for plagiarism, you would be absolutely correct.

(yes they published the book)

[roboticnebula]

Pros of re-reading your own fic

a good time;

Has exactly the tropes you like and the characterization you want to read;

Gratification: yes you did finish a thing and yes you did do good;

just a very fun time all around.

Cons of re-reading your own fic:

Is that another TYpO

[whatsnewalycat]

Made this for u 💝

[yeehawpim]

a comic about fix-it fanfics

[pixiemage]

Please, for the love of god, please don’t be this person. No matter how long it’s been since an update, no matter how many unfinished stories are sitting on their account, no matter what - do not be this person.

Not only is it insanely rude, but you also do more damage than you think be being such a self-entitled ass about something someone created for free and for fun. “This author” can see what you say.

RIP decency indeed.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Gravity Falls was strange, and the townsfolk even stranger, it seemed.

The twins had been unceremoniously dropped off on the side of the dusty road, the roar of the bus engine fading away as the driver wordlessly drove off without fanfare. The poor man had almost seemed close to tears ever since they had entered the thresholds of this seemingly innocuous town, all too eager to speed off and away while leaving the two children coughing and wheezing in its dust.

It had not even been a full minute since their lackluster drop-off before they became well acquainted with the oddly sociable and irritatingly chatty inhabitants of Gravity Falls. A single conversation with a pair of boisterous policemen already told them all they needed to know about the history of the town, as well as the whereabouts of their Great Uncle Ford.

"The Mystery Shack," the townsfolk had called it. It seemed as though their distant uncle had earned himself somewhat of a reputation amongst the locals. He was the town cryptid; the ever elusive mad scientist that lived in the outskirts of town in this so called "Mystery Shack". No one really knew who he really was; but everyone knew exactly who he was.

So, when the twins found themselves stood hand in hand in front of the rickety old shack, they hadn't really known what to expect when door had swung open with a deafening slam.

He was a strange man, their Great Uncle Ford. He seemed nothing like the cackling looney lab-coated madman they had imagined from what meager hushed information the townsfolk had offered them. It seemed as though the tales of a scientist gone mad that experimented on stray children that wandered into his spooky "Mystery Shack" was but a cruel rumor.

He mostly just seemed unhealthy, to be honest. His sickly, pale frame utterly drowned in the thick red woolen sweater that practically seemed to hang off of his lanky body like a second flap of skin. It made him look almost child-like, like a kid trying on their parents clothes; which somewhat diluted the intimidating effects of his looming height.

Although, the townsfolk's apparent fear of their Great Uncle Ford seemed to have some merit.

For one, Grunkle Ford really didn't seem all too human. He wasn't inhumane, per se; just, not entirely himself, if that made any sense. Looking at him was like looking at an incomplete puzzle; or looking at someone who you remember all your life wearing a hat, suddenly coming to work one day without one, and it takes a little too long for you to remember what is missing.

It was like Grunkle Ford had lost pieces of himself. Somewhere, to someone. His eyes seemed... almost empty. They were a little too dull and a little too opaque, lacking the lively shine of life everyone else seemed to have.

Another thing was that Grunkle Ford wasn't entirely alone. There was... someone else. The twins couldn't exactly pinpoint where, but they could feel its stare, whatever or whoever it was. They could almost feel its stare, a non-existent eye trailing a weird prickling sensation across their skin. The twins recalled the words of one of the townsfolk, a tall bestacled man with haunted blind eyes; although unseeing they could have sworn his gaze never seemed to leave them, as all he said was:

"Don't catch IT staring at you"

The twins had an odd feeling that IT was looking at them right now.

They didn't even notice when the pale bony hand of Grunkle Ford suddenly reached into their personal space, barely registering his words at all, much less the extra fingers that adorned each of his rough, worn palms.

They didn't take the hand.

If the twins had thought the outside of the shack looked decrepit, the inside seemed somehow even worse.

Every inch of exposed wall, ceiling or floor were utterly covered by sprawling symbols, summoning circles, and indecipherable words that seemed to be in an entirely different language than any the twins knew. They overlapped and tangled into one another into big, messy, red splotches of clustered nothings.

There were notes, diagrams on ripped pieces of aged looking paper scattered everywhere, with hardly any room for post-it notes squeezed wherever there was room. Lit and unlit candles were placed absolutely everywhere; either hidden in the dark corners or openly stood in the middle of the floor; sometimes in a circle, sometimes not. The melted fallen wax had coagulated into a hard white mess onto the floor; the smell of cheap vanilla scented candles intermingling with the smell of halloween fake blood (and Dipper was convince there had to be some real blood there, too) to create a sour concoction that stung their noses unpleasantly.

The shack was sparsely furnished with rarely any furniture at all. Not even a couch, the tables and chairs simply pushed to the walls to make more space for the endlessly swirling symbols and pentagrams. The twins were hesitant of stepping on any of the summoning circles, carefully sidestepping the candles and walking over the line of the pentagrams.

The attic, where they would be residing, was not much better.

Maybe they did end up in a mad scientist's house, after all.

[eridan-ampora]

i love it when characters are codependent. i love it when losing someone feels like losing a limb. i love it when two people "complete" each other so wholly and terribly that one can barely function without the other. i love it when the fear of losing the only person who understands them is so all-consuming they'll destroy anything to stay together, including themselves.

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

unstoppable force (desire to write) vs immovable object (tired)

[spectralsleuth]

Reblog and put your rare pair in the tags/comments! I want to see the depths people will go to create, for the most random two characters in the most obscure media.

[littlelightfish]

This... this is a whole different kind of psychic damage here. When nightmares got Marcille, we get to knew that her's biggest fear is outliving her friends. This isn't even canon probably, but look at this. This isn't a "I don't want my friends to die" kind of dream. This is a "I'm terrified of loosing my daughters, of something killing them, and being incapable of stopping it" kind of dream. It's so simple yet it explains perfectly the whole of chilchucks character. He loves, he cares, deeply. But he, or doesn't acknowledges, or doesn't know what to do with that knowledge.

Besides that. Someone had to wake him up after this. Imagine the devastation in this man after he wakes up. He just saw his three little babys murdered corpses (or maybe he saw them die, wich isn't better). He would possibly not talk about it, and that would worry the hell out of the party, because we'll, they see him all down and only one of them knows what he saw. Imagine being the one to pull him from that nightmare. Seeing this man, usually so composed, fuking staring with tears and terror in his eyes to the composes of what you can only assume are his daughters. It would be heartwrenching.

Idk, I love this man so much...

[cyanide-latte]

TWST ficlet: have some imagination

Words: 1,399

Warnings: None

—————

“Do you know why you're getting a talking to, Benoit?”

The Pomefiore freshman Copper Benoit looked up at his Housewarden and opted to go for honesty.

“Can't say as I rightly do, sir,” he answered, trying to maintain the respect owed to the upperclassman. So far he was just a couple months into his tenure as a new student at Night Raven College, and this was the first time he'd really run into trouble with his Housewarden. He'd heard several people say that Vil Schoenheit was ruthless and ruled with almost as much of an iron fist as the Heartslabyul Housewarden, that he wasn't someone to cross or upset. So far Copper’s experience had been that Vil was strict for sure—especially to his fellow freshman and dorm brother Epel—but Vil wasn't awful. Copper knew when someone was a truly awful, intolerable human being, he'd lived through it his entire life with Mr. Stone.

And even now, he wasn't sure Vil was being awful per se. But he definitely didn't like how this conversation was going, and he really didn't like being in the hot seat. Vice-Housewarden Rook Hunt watching with a delighted smile off to the side didn't help matters.

Vil let out a little huff, planting his hands on his hips, and Copper had to remind himself that at least he didn't have things as bad as Epel.

“You snuck out in the middle of the night to go down to the lake, and upon both your leaving and your return, you set off wards that were in place for safety reasons.”

Copper couldn't hide his surprise. Magical wards? He hadn't given a second’s thought to that.

“I can see the wheels in your brain turning, Copper,” Vil muttered in a warning tone. “Don't think even for a second that you can just use your Unique Magic on these wards. Just because your spell can brute force through such barriers doesn't mean you should be using it for sneaking out.”

He stifled a grumbling swear at that. He wasn't sure what annoyed him more: the fact that Vil referred to it being a brute force spell, or that he'd exactly caught the train of thought and put a stop to it.

“You're not supposed to be sneaking out in the first place!” Vil continued. “You're a growing young man and you need adequate rest, the same as any of us. Even more so than most if you intend to be a respectable captain. You cannot afford to slack off on caring for yourself.”

“Roi du Poison is right, you know,” Rook added, his tone a touch gentler. “A greater, more vivacious self cannot be attained without proper care for oneself. If you continue to disregard this wisdom, I fear it shall be to your detriment. You'll surely come to regret your youthful impatience in years to come.” As Copper turned to goggle at him—sometimes, goggling was really the only thinking you could do with upperclassman Hunt—Rook’s eyes crinkled with a knowing smile and he added, “Ahh, but I believe you have concerns about not visiting your ship and your crew. You are Roi des Brigands, after all. And a captain must not abandon his post. Am I correct?”

Despite his unceasing penchant for the dramatic, Copper was relieved that Rook had guessed aloud his reason for sneaking out. And the honest truth was that he couldn't: he simply couldn't abandon or ignore his duties as captain. Silently, he nodded his confirmation.

Vil hardly seemed impressed or sympathetic. “None of that is an excuse for sneaking out and breaking the curfew. While I'm relieved that this isn't a case of you slipping off to go spend time with the Scarabia Housewarden, the fact remains you were out when you shouldn't have been and I was alerted by the wards that you'd done so. I appreciate you have responsibilities that you wish to see to, but you need to work on improving the way you manage your time.”

Copper chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, trying to consider the best way to respond. Eventually he settled on, “You're right, I do have to manage my time better. But there are also gonna be some things that I have to learn at night, and it won't be some one-and-done thing. No, it's not an excuse either, before you say anything. But I won't always make curfew.”

Vil folded his arms with a frown. Rook shifted his gaze to the Housewarden, but Vil never returned the look. Copper supposed when you learned to jive with someone that well, you didn't need even direct eye-to-eye communication.

“He makes a very good point, Vil,” Rook remarked. “Surely you have an answer to match?”

Vil continued to study Copper intently with folded arms, letting out a pensive hum and tapping his foot by the heel a couple of times. Eventually he unfolded his arms, expression sliding into that carefully-cultivated, perfect neutrality.

“Surely you could plan ahead to inform us of when you're going to need to be aboard your ship to learn those lessons?”

“Could try, sir, but it's not easy. The ghost crew isn't like the rest of the cuddly ghosts here on campus. They don't have the same values and their whims flip faster than the tide. ‘Sides, I doubt they'll respect a captain who meekly falls in line with an authority that isn't himself; these are pirates, you know.”

There was an aggravated sigh of defeat. “I suppose I'm not entirely able to argue with that,” Vil declared. “I did meet a few of them. But causing a ruckus setting off the wards is unacceptable. From now on, there is to be none of that. And if I catch you sneaking past my room at night, there are going to be worse consequences than me giving you a lenient little talk.”

Perhaps someone else might have argued or admitted defeat. But Copper’s mind had already latched onto an idea and he stroked his chin ponderously as he regarded his Housewarden.

“That's a mighty big ‘if’,” he finally said, keeping his tone as innocent as possible.

The Housewarden said nothing but his eyebrows lifted sharply. The freshman took it as a cue to keep going.

“What I'm hearing,” Copper said, standing from the chair he’d been seated in and tilting his chin back as he let the grin he felt building slide its way onto his face, “is that I need to not get caught and I need to either not trip the wards or get past them without brute force.”

The junior's expression didn't change as he waved a hand imperiously, his tone now light. “What an interesting imagination you possess, little potato. I said no such thing.”

“Aye, sure ya didn't,” Copper said, tossing a wink. Already, he was getting ideas. If he practiced with his wind magic well enough, he thought he could manage to use that to escape through his window. “Orders noted, Housewarden. I'd best get started on learning to fall safely.”

A brief flash of alarm showed on Vil’s face as his eyes went wide. “Fall?!”

Letting his grin show in full, Copper gave a nod, a bow to his Housewarden, and a two-fingered salute to his Vice-Housewarden. “I'll see you both later!”

And with that, he darted out from the room, feeling his heart drumming behind his ribs with excitement. This wasn't a hard order, this was a challenge. He would eventually have to thank Vil later down the road for this, but for now, he wanted to get to practicing. If he would learn how to make a daring escape from his dorm room via the window with his wind magic, he would need to practice falling. All he needed to do now was convince Coach Vargas to teach him to fall well without raising suspicions. Nothing was going to hold him back.

“Beauté!” Rook was practically beaming as Copper rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. “Such vigor and audacity suits that adventurous nature of his! He's going to become his own wonderful example of our dorm's spirit of tenacity, wouldn't you agree?”

“I'll agree to the part about him having utter audacity, for now,” Vil grumbled. Although, despite the fact Copper couldn't see it, his Housewarden almost smiled over the freshman's undaunted spirit. “Nothing is going to hold him back.”

————

Taglist: @blithesharem @elenauaurs @inmateofthemind @ramshacklerumble @tixdixl

@distant-velleity @rainesol @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @twst-migraine (DM me if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist for my TWST OCs stuff)

[swordsandholly]

Thinking about a mechanic!AU where the 141 boys run a garage and need a new receptionist. They hire you because you’re just so cute (great tits) and have a decent resume but it becomes a slight problem when they realize you’re a bit… dense.

Total ditz to be precise.

But they can’t really get mad when you get the keys for clients mixed up and look at them with those big eyes all teary and a little pout pushing out your lower lip.

Price is the most patient, perfectly content to walk you through how to file paperwork and fill out forms. Instructing you in a low voice while his breath brushes the shell of your ear. It’s really their fault for having such a terrible system, you know? Don’t worry about it too much, dove. He’ll settle his big hands on your shoulders and gently trace up and down your arms. See? You’re getting it. Just needed some more practice, hm?

Johnny is more than happy to show you around the garage, rattling off everything he knows about all those nitty gritty details that go right over your pretty little head. He’ll pop open the hood of some sports car and point to the engine to show it off. No, bonnie, you’ve got tae get in close. Closer.

Until you’re bent entirely over in one of those too-short skirts you wear everyday. It takes all his willpower not to yank you into the supply closet.

Gaz is just so sweet to you. Always bringing you little treats and candies to suck on. To help you concentrate, of course. Always greeting you with a soft ‘baby girl’ at the beginning of your shift. Whenever you’re standing around be it at the printer or counter - wherever really - he’ll slip a hand on your waist. It always trails a little lower, his pinky just edging on the hem of your too tight jeans.

Ghost gets frustrated with you to the point of causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes. He’s feels guilty, sure, but bloody hell just print the damn receipt. He avoids you for the most part. Until one evening when it’s pouring down. You forgot your rain coat of course, silly girl. He offers you a ride which you take happily.

After that he can’t get rid of you. You bring him coffees (how you remember his order word for word but not where you last left your own cup is beyond him) and giggle at his jokes. When a client gets too snappy or too loud he’s the first to step in - standing behind you glaring at them with his huge arms crossed over his chest until they back down.

[velvetwyrme]

aHhh okay so the discussions of Titan!Megatron on @callsign-relic's blog have fully. FULLY taken over my brain and ive been drawing stuff for it for like the last few days nonstop

the tl;dr of this is AU is pretty much "what if Megatron got turned into a titan/cityformer as a form of penance/imprisonment and now roams the empty wasteland of Cybertron forever" plus "IDW Megatron has really fucked up internals so... what if that, but as a City?"

and of course since he's a Titan, that also means he has a cityspeaker... or three. One per sub-AU thing. Theres 3 options. 3 flavours of AU.

i have so much art to make. but in the meantime, for more info! check out the #titan au tag on Relic's blog :]!! (also uhh potential ns//fw warning for the link shfjbdkd)

Hi. My battery is running out once again so design and art notes get chucked here instead of an image.

The cuffs and collar are hardwired into Megatron, so I made the lights the same colour as his biolights!

I imagine that on the tops of his shoulders there are solar panels, even if you can't see them here lol.

I really wanted to keep the swirly bits on Megatron's chest from IDW

Other art notes:

The second picture with the seekers is (loosely) inspired by a discussion about whether or not Megatron gets visitors or not. I thought about who would visit him and well... I think this is as close as Starscream realistically gets to visiting him.

Extra detail about that piece is that Thundercracker and Skywarp are keeping watch from above! Also drawing Megatron took me like 8 hours because I was struggling with his legs really badly kshffkbfkdsbdk,, the background went much faster, funnily enough.

Optimus specifically isn't wearing his Autobot badge any more.

This isn't relevant in this series of images, but Ultra Magnus's eye markings are only on the Magnus armour. His other two forms do not have them :] (... until he begins to discard the armour, that is.)

Megatron is roughly 3200m/2 miles tall. Technically he could have clouds around his knees, but I thought this looked a little bit cooler lol.

Also, height chart! Him big. I didn't even attempt to put a human for scale because that'd be. near impossible with this scale.

[autumnillustration]

"Perhaps a lesser-known gift of Kenobi's was his ability to listen."

(AU where post-banishment Ahsoka gets zapped back to TPM, strapped with a fundamental distrust of the Jedi, an apocalyptic vision of the future, and a mandate to help Anakin Skywalker. So, in all this, it's nice to have a confidant.)

edit: link to the fic

[lazylittledragon]

if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about