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midnightbears · 18 hours ago

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✿ duskbound, afterlight.

#STARRING: cybertronian femme reader & other characters.

#TAGS: fighting. lots of fighting. wounds. mentions of pain. flashbacks. 'alluding' to prostitution.

#NOTES: i actually feel so weird for this chapter because not much happens (in a sense), but i can't stress enough how much i want you to feel the mc as an actual character instead of this just being a romance story, and i'm establishing this not only for you but also for myself! you will need to read the mc's character arcs and individual chapters, even if they're long or you might think are unnecessary. if you don't read them, you're going to miss out on crucial points of the story! character arcs for your mcs are essential! even when they're just y/n! y/n is still a character, and they need a good backstory and moments to flesh them out thoroughly. fanfiction should be made with as much love and care as a 'real' book would need to be. with my usual rant issued, enjoy <3

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

You remembered setting down the tiny bundle of belongings you carried, the meager possessions you owned neatly placed on the edge of your new berth, and your new pickaxe and hammer drill. You were still deciding where to put your things when the voice of who would be your new berthroom companion caught you off guard, breaking the silence like a sudden gust of wind.

“You can come out, my love. All is well.”

You had quizzingly looked at her after the words left her mouth, but you grew even more confused when you realized she was not looking your way. Instead, she was looking at the small locker at the end of her berth.

There was a hesitant creak, the metallic sound echoing in the quiet room. A small servo gripped the edge of the locker’s door, trembling slightly, and then a tiny figure peeked out—a sparkling, her frame barely more than a fragile outline against the dim light. She was almost painfully small, her light turquoise plating catching the faint glow in the room.

“Come here, my light,” Starlight called out gently, extending a servo in a welcoming gesture as she sat at the edge of her berth.

The sparkling hesitated, her optics flicking nervously between you and her carrier. Her whole frame trembled with uncertainty.

You tried to make yourself look smaller, less imposing, feeling your spark crumple and crush with sympathy and curiosity at the existence of such innocence in this hellhole. So many questions and doubts ran through your processor at a speed that even the most talented racers would be jealous of.

Then, with a deep vent that sounded almost like a sigh, the sparkling took a cautious step toward her carrier. And another. And another. Until she was close enough to be scooped up into her arms.

“There you are,” She said with a tender smile, gathering the sparkling to her chest as if she were the most precious thing in the universe. The little one buried her face against her mother's chassis, and you could hear the faint whirr of her tiny cooling fans as she snuggled close, seeking comfort in the familiar embrace. Her servo moved slowly up and down the sparkling’s back. “I’m sorry for scaring you, sweetie. You’re very brave, are you not?”

Suddenly, she looked at you.

“I’m glad they sent another femme, I wasn’t about to take chances with someone who wouldn’t understand what it’s like.” She said. Although her voice was steady and unembellished, an undercurrent of intensity ran through it—tender and fiercely protective, issuing a warning. You could sense that this caution wasn’t aimed at you, but rather at some shadowy threat that lingered just beyond reach. “If they’d sent a mech, I would have thrown him out myself.”

You blinked, taken aback by her straightforwardness. You nodded slowly, trying to keep your expression open and unthreatening. Your voice was a little hesitant, unsure of how to respond to her. “I... I’m glad I’m here too.”

“Good,” she said, a half smile on her lip components, her gaze not wavering. “Then we’ll get along just fine. I’m Starlight, this is Vaportrail... she’s my everything. And I won’t let anything—or anyone—hurt her.”

Her tone now had no softness, only a hard-edged determination that made your spark tighten. This wasn’t a carrier who would let her guard down easily, not for anyone, and certainly not for someone she didn’t trust. But there was a flicker of relief in her optics, a softening around the edges as if admitting that your presence didn’t feel like a threat was a victory all on its own.

Which, in a way, made you very sad.

You opened your dermas, unsure of what to say, but Starlight cut you off with a small smile, her laughing, purple optics seizing you. “Don’t take it personally. I’m just... careful. They don’t make it easy for femmes like us. Especially not for carriers. I’m not about to apologize for doing what I must to keep her safe.”

You nodded quickly. “I—I understand. I don’t want to intrude. I just... I didn’t realize you had a little one here.”

“No, it’s fine,” Starlight said, waving a servo dismissively but not loosening her hold on Vaportrail. “You’re here now, and that’s that. They didn’t exactly ask my opinion before sending you, but... you seem alright.” Her optics scanned you up and down like she was weighing you, judging if you were genuinely trustworthy. Whatever she saw, it made her relax a fraction. “We’ll see how it goes.”

There was a silence that felt heavier than it should, and Vaportrail shifted a little, peeking out from the safety of her carrier’s hold. Her optics were still wide and oscillating, but there was a flicker now, like the spark of a tinderbox, and you managed a tentative smile. It felt awkward and unsure, but it seemed the right move because Vaportrail didn’t look away.

Starlight’s expression softened again, just a little, as she glanced down at her daughter. She leaned in and murmured, “This is…” She looked back up at you precipitously, “Sorry, what’s your name?”

You told her your new designation, the new number of the H branch in Mining Outpost R–02. You’d need to get used to it, but it would be easy enough. The overseer of your branch had already taken to refer to you as simply ‘8’.

Starlight almost grimaced at your words but soon looked down at the sparkling. “This is H-08. She’s going to stay with us for a while.”

The sparkling didn’t respond, but she didn’t hide either, and you took that as a small victory.

Starlight turned her optics towards you, revealing the complexities within her gaze—gentleness intertwined with determination, a fierce sense of protection that nearly felt rebellious. Above all, you noticed a tentative hope. It was delicate, nearly fragile, resembling something seldom relied upon and sustained by pure resolve. It felt like she was challenging you, silently urging you to either validate her doubts or, maybe, to offer her a reason to believe.

“Just make yourself comfortable,” she said with a half-smirk. “But don’t go thinking you’re a guest. You’re part of this now. And if you’ll be here, you’ll do your part to keep her safe, too.”

You nodded, meeting her gaze with all the sincerity you could muster.

“Of course,” you said. “I’ll do my best.”

You didn’t expect to follow Bluey’s advice that well.

Although you still felt anxious, there was one important lesson he ensured you understood, which was the primary reason you were managing to perform mediocrely well in the current match. Five simple words, but ones he made sure to drill into you, even at the cost of hearing him utter the sentence in your dreams.

“Always keep your head cool.”

The arena bore the scars of your prolonged clash—scorched craters, gouges in the walls, and the acrid tang of overheated metal. Across the battered expanse, your opponent circled behind a wall of waste metal. He was tall and bulky, his frame a juggernaut that had already tested your limits more than once.

A younger you might have faltered by now, let exhaustion or his relentless power shake your resolve. But this wasn’t then. You adjusted your stance, steadying your frame and keeping Bluey’s advice sharp in your processor. This wasn’t over yet.

“Let them think they’ve got the upper hand, then take it from them in one clean swoop.”

Your opponent grinned, baring sharp teeth, his optics gleaming with something dark and eager. He lunged toward you, hurling a heavy swing of his greatsword, too fast and keen for a clean kill.

Good. You could work with that.

You ducked low, slipping just out of reach. He lunged forward, his momentum betraying him as he faltered, thrown off balance for a fleeting moment. The crowd's uproar filled the air, their cheers rising in a mighty wave, drowning out all other sounds. Bright flashes of light erupted around you, glinting off your polished armor and that of your opponent, creating a dazzling display that danced in the periphery of your vision.

“Most mechs here don’t think before they swing. Let them come to you. Half the fight is watching them trip over themselves. They’ll do half the work if you let them.”

You let him close in again, his optics narrowing as he swung, aiming for your helm this time. A broad swing of his arm—you had seen it a dozen times in practice with Bluey by now. You sidestepped and his fist cut through space, too slow to catch you. The warhammer in your grasp seemed to flow into your movements, and you did not even feel its heaviness.

He cursed, stumbling again, his frustration evident as he recovered, his vents heaving. Bluey was right; your opponent wasn’t thinking, only reacting. And now, with him unbalanced, it was time to make your move.

"Think quick, strike quicker. You don’t need to go for a kill shot in friendly matches. Just hit them where it hurts.”

So you did. Darting forward, you aimed low with your weapon, catching him squarely in the side with a swift, well-placed jab to his knee joint. The impact reverberated through your frame, his armor giving way just enough for you to feel the shock of metal against metal. He staggered, his vents hissing in pain, and you took advantage of his faltering balance, pressing forward with another strike to his leg.

His frame buckled, his weight crashing to one knee as he tried and failed to push himself back up. His optics flared with rage as he swiped at you again, desperation taking over, but you were already out of reach, watching his movements with a clear, unclouded gaze.

"A calm mind’s your greatest weapon. Most fights end the second your opponent loses his cool. Hold onto yours, and you’ll outlast them every time.”

You watched as your opponent struggled, rage overtaking his features as he realized his momentum had failed him. He staggered back, clutching his damaged leg, his optics wild, searching for some way to turn the tide. But you were already moving, closing in before he could react. A quick swipe to his shoulder joint sent him stumbling back again, a desperate growl tearing from his vocalizer as his arm dropped, sparking where the wiring had split.

The crowd’s roars escalated, but for once, the noise didn’t faze you. You kept your focus on him, your field of vision narrowing down to this one mech and his dwindling options.

“A hit’s only as strong as the bot that lands it. Don’t go for flashy moves if a simple strike will do the job.”

So you didn’t. You kept it simple and calculated, landing a swift, final blow to his remaining arm joint. His frame shuddered, forced down by the impact as he slumped forward, defeated but still functional, vents whirring unevenly as he struggled to catch his breath.

You took a step back, exhaling as you held your stance, ready to react to any last-ditch effort he might make. But there was nothing—no fight left in him, just the slow, begrudging slump of a mech who knew he’d been bested.

Another one. You’d done it! Shifting your helm toward the other side of the arena, you glimpsed the opening that connected the arena to the Gladiators’ lobby, and you swore that behind the bars, you could see a pair of familiar ochre-pigmented optics looking at you.

Bluey was there too, flashing a cheerful, childish thumbs-up as a wide grin spread across his face. He mimicked a series of playful punches aimed at the air, then broke into applause, cheering you on with boundless enthusiasm. You did not mind it. It actually made you smile.

Just as you turned toward the exit, you were so close to doing so as you began taking the first step; a pair of guards came to haul the mech onto a stretcher, and one of them harshly gripped your shoulder, evoking a grunt from your voicebox.

“You’re not done.”

You wrenched yourself free from his hold but stared at him confusedly, “We were the last ones on the list for today.”

“Not anymore.” The other answered for his partner, staring intensely at you despite his visor. “There’s been a last-minute change for your matches.”

‘Bullway.’ You looked away with irritation in your features (never directed at them), which was answer enough for the pair of guards. They began carrying the wounded gladiator away, fighting the urge to stifle their laughs while the mech deliriously quaked about his pain.

With a languid motion, you allowed your shoulders to roll back, reclaiming your position at the heart of the arena. To entertain the multitude of cybertronians around you, you threw your arms wide above your helm, sending a ripple of exhilaration through the crowd, igniting a cacophony of cheers and shouts.

You gazed at them in mild, calculated satisfaction. In some manner, the audience determined the level of excitement in the fight, and you felt a sense of relief knowing it would be exceptionally some time before you started boring them, even if you felt disgusted by their entertainment.

Suddenly, the other gate opened.

He emerged from the shadows. You’d seen him before, though only in passing. You hadn’t paid much attention to him then; now, it was impossible to look away.

His frame was massive, and his armor was scarred from dozens of battles. The faint glow of his optics burned like embers, and the sharpness of his gaze cut through the haze of dust and noise that filled the arena. His steps were heavy and measured, the kind of stride that wasn’t rushed because it didn’t need to be.

He stopped in the center of the pit, his helm tilting slightly as his optics locked onto you.

“So,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, carrying easily over the noise. “This is what they’ve got for me today?”

You tightened your grip on your warhammer, your digits aching. He was assessing you. You could feel it—a predatory gaze that lingered just long enough for you to start overthinking. Still, you said nothing. Words were a distraction. Both Bluey and Megatronus made points about that.

He seemed to take your silence as an insult. His mouth pulled into a sharp grin that didn’t reach his optics.

“They’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel now, aren’t they?” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain, each word sharp as a dagger. “Sending me, Celsius, some nobody.”

Your helmet shifted slightly, and the question slipped from your dermas before you could rein in your need to make him angry. “Who?”

In an instant, the atmosphere around him transformed dramatically, thickening with an almost electric tension. It surged through him, coiling like a tightly wound spring just moments before it snapped, tight and expectant. The playful mockery that had once danced mischievously in his optics was snuffed out, leaving behind an unsettling void. In its place, a chilling darkness crept in, settling heavily over his features, distorting the lines of his face.

“‘Who?’” he repeated, his voice dropping to a growl. “You don’t know who I am?”

You stared at him, unflinching. “No.”

The crowd caught wind of the exchange, and a wave of laughter rippled through the stands. His frame stiffened, his optics narrowing as the noise grew louder.

“You’re funny,” he said, though his tone suggested he didn’t find it amusing. “That’s good. Keep that up—it’ll make this more entertaining.”

Without warning, he lunged.

For a mech his size, he moved with startling speed, closing the distance between you in a handful of strides. His fist came down like a hammer, a strike meant to pulverize. You twisted away just in time, his blow slamming into the ground with a force that sent tremors up through your stabilizers.

You darted back, your hammer raised defensively as you sized him up.

He was fast, yes, but his movements were heavy, over-committed. He fought like someone who had never needed to think about his strength—who had always relied on brute force to overpower his opponents.

“Stay still!” he barked, his voice sharp with irritation as he swung again, the arc of his arm slicing through the air.

You ducked, letting his momentum carry him past you.

“You’re wasting energy,” you said, the words slipping out before you could think better of it.

His growl was low and guttural, and when he turned back to you, his optics blazed with rage.

“You’ve got a smart mouth, I heard,” he said, his vents heaving. “Let’s see how smart it is when I’m done with you.”

He lunged at you once more, his movements becoming increasingly wild and unrestrained, each swing of his fists wide and erratic. You sidestepped, remembering the footwork Bluey had practically made you memorize. Your opponent wasn’t relying on his tactical knowledge; instead, he was fueled by a burning sense of pride. That pride, however, was proving to be his greatest weakness, as it blinded him to the precision and finesse with which you fought.

“Who trained you?” he sneered, his words cutting through the air like shrapnel. “Or did they just toss you in here to die?”

You didn’t answer. There was no point. Instead, you waited, watching for the next opening.

It came sooner than you expected.

He swung wide again, his arm sweeping out in a broad arc that left his side exposed. You stepped in, driving your hammer into the joint of his leg. The impact sent a jolt up your arms, and his armor buckled under the force. He staggered, a snarl tearing from his vocalizer as he struggled to stay upright.

“You’ll regret that,” he spat, his optics wild with fury.

Once again, you didn’t respond. You didn’t need to.

He lunged again, his movements growing sloppier with each passing moment. His rage was blinding him, clouding his judgment. He was making mistakes, and you were ready to exploit them.

You darted around him, landing a blow on his shoulder joint. He cursed, the sound raw and guttural, as his arm dropped, sparking at the connection. His frame trembled with the effort of staying upright, his vents rattling like loose machinery.

“Fight me!” he roared, his voice cracking in frustration. “Stop running and fight me!”

You held your ground, your optics steady as you watched him. “I don’t need to fight you,” you said, your tone calm, almost detached. “You’re beating yourself.”

The words struck him like a physical blow. He froze, his optics wide with disbelief, before the rage returned in full force. He charged blindly, his movements a chaotic blur of desperation and fury.

You stepped aside, his momentum carrying him past you. Then, with one final swing, you brought your hammer down on his remaining shoulder joint.

The impact sent him crashing to the ground, his frame buckling under the weight of his arrogance. He lay there, his vents sputtering, his optics dimming as he struggled to lift himself.

You stood over him, your stance steady, your frame casting a shadow over his.

He looked up at you, his optics burning with hatred and humiliation.

“Who,” you said, your voice low, broken by your tired breaths between syllables, “are you supposed to be again?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, like a thunderclap, the crowd erupted. Their cheers and jeers mingled in a cacophony that reverberated through the arena walls, their voices rising in a frenzy. Some shouted your name; others hurled insults at the fallen gladiator. The noise was deafening, but you let it wash over you, standing tall as their energy rippled through the air.

Their way of letting you know: That was an excellent match.

You allowed yourself a glance upward toward the tiered stands. The Overseers’ box loomed above, a dark shape crowded with figures seated in detached luxury. A few of them nodded, the faintest inclinations of approval that barely registered against the clinking of energon cubes and muted laughter from their table.

Most weren’t even watching.

Your optics narrowed as you saw what held their attention. A courier had delivered a tower of tiny energon cubes to their table. One of the bosses reached out, plucking a cube from the precariously stacked pile with the same carelessness as a mech selecting a datapad. Another laughed as the tower wobbled but held its balance.

Your spark twisted violently in your chest.

They weren’t watching. After all the effort, after the pain and adrenaline, the gamble of your life against another’s... you weren’t even worth their attention.

A tower of energon cubes was upstaging you.

A surge of fury swelled in your core, hot and all-consuming. You acted before you could think, your frame moving on instinct alone. With a sharp pull, you wrenched a shoulder plate free from your defeated opponent’s armor, the battered piece of metal groaning as it came loose in your servo.

Then, you hurled the plating across the arena. It sliced through the air, the momentum carrying it in a deadly arc straight toward the Overseers’ box.

The piece struck the energon tower dead-center.

The cubes tumbled spectacularly, scattering across their table and clattering to the floor. Shouts of alarm erupted as some of the bosses scrambled back, some leaping from their seats as the impact sent their delicate drinks and datapads spilling across their laps.

The crowd gasped, the collective intake of air almost louder than their earlier cheers. A shocked silence fell over the pit, stretching taut and electric as every optic turned to you.

For a moment, you simply stood there, your plating heaving as the heat of your anger coursed through you. Then, you inclined the upper part of your frame—just a fraction, the gesture somewhere between mockery and defiance. Your optics locked onto the Overseers as if daring them to look away again.

When you finally turned, you saw that the arena gates had opened at some point, the path to the exit yawning before you. You walked toward it without hesitation, without awaiting dismissal, your pedsteps echoing in the stunned silence that followed you.

Behind you, the crowd erupted louder than before, their voices carrying an amalgamation of shock, awe, and delight. They weren’t just watching now—they were riveted.

An excellent match, indeed.

But as you crossed the threshold into the dim corridors beyond the pit, the noise faded into the distance, and you could feel the weight of the Overseers’ glares pressing against your back. For the first time, you were sure they were paying attention.

Good. Let them.

#midnightbears #transformers #transformers one #transformers x reader #transformers x you #megatron #megatron x you #megatronus x reader #megatronus #megatron x reader #cybertronian reader #d 16 x reader #d 16 x you #tf #orion pax #elita one #optimus prime

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skaruresonic · 22 hours ago

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Summed up in two images:

Part of it might be the hipster urge to go "um ackshually," but for me personally, it's being sick of seeing Lancelot everywhere even when it doesn't make sense for him to be there and how gassed up he continues to be after a literal millennium.

My problem with Lancelot is twofold:

1.) He usurps the roles of other characters, including Arthur himself.

Cai was once Arthur's right-hand man, a loyal and shrewd if sarcastic guy, but Lance's influence slowly flanderizes him into a buttmonkey (Percival knocks him out for merely startling him and Gawain's like "welp" as he lays there unconscious) that is so coarse and lacking in manners that Arthur chides him for it. Really ironic, considering it's Arthur who insults Cai into leaving forever in Culhwch and Olwen.

Bedwyr was Cai and Arthur's steadfast companion, a handsome one-handed knight skilled in battle.

However, whenever authors want to include a cheating subplot without revealing too much of an attachment to French romances, they simply hollow Bedwyr out and make Lance's spirit possess him instead:

Which is an insult to Bedwyr's original character, and doesn't even make logical sense since A.) a casual reading of Culhwch and Olwen will reveal that Cai and Bedwyr were hella gay for each other:

...and B.) Cai's right there? Gwenhwyfar sings his praises in The Dialogue of Melwas and Gwenhwyfar?

https://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/melwas.html

Llacheu, Arthur's son, is implied to be a fine warrior and one of the island's best naturalists alongside Gwalchmai (Gawain). He gets sidelined because Lancelot needs to be the big hero:

Arthur himself used to be Britain's resident ass-kicker until Lancelot's inclusion necessitated that he assume the role of a passive cuck. Because twagedy.

tl;dr Classic Gary-Stu being so awesome and important that the narrative makes everyone else look like a weenie problem.

Spicy take incoming, but retelling the same cuckoldry tale over and over again for 900 years and pretending it's hot shit this time around because the anachronistic French knight running around Britain circa 530 AD (Norman invasion whenst?) is now smeared in mud or the cheating is moved two inches to the left isn't creative. I don't find it particularly new or exciting whenever the narrative feels the need to include it just to include it for sake of audience recognition, especially if it shrugs and sighs "Arthur's not even pressed about it." What's the point, then?

It's tedious. It's tiresome. I get bored just thinking about it.

And that's before all of Lancelot's self-flagellation.

---

2.) Lancelot has little reason to be in Welsh tellings, yet authors are so attached to this one plot thread of "best friend betrays the king by sleeping with his wife" that they cannot let it go for the life of them.

This drives me up a freaking wall. Even Arthuriana that purports to be historical or more grounded in Welsh tales cannot help but include Lancelot, such as Bernard Cornwell's novels or the 2004 Clive Owen movie.

Even in iterations where he's not there in the flesh, he's there in spirit, latching onto the closest analogue, because obviously we have to have a cheating subplot. /s

I'm of the firm belief that cheating is not a necessary element to paint the chain of events that culminate the Battle of Camlan as a tragedy. There are many equally relevant elements worth fleshing out and exploring, such as the blow Medrawt struck the queen (Welsh Triads), the messenger Iddawg stoking war by ferrying false messages between Arthur and Medrawt (Dream of Rhonabwy), or the climate shift that resulted in the year 536 AD being "the worst year to be alive" and possibly driving everyone mad with hunger and plague (Annales Cambrie).

Within that context, and considering how 537-539 AD is commonly given as the year in which Camlan occurred, suddenly Arthur and Medrawt eating all the food at their respective courts doesn't seem so cartoonish.

What was that experience like? No? we're just gonna have another cheating rerun? okay well fuck me then lmao

all yall that dont like lancelot im curious why

i feel like its a really common opinion and im not really sure why? so like. if u dont like lancelot reblog /reply with why

#arthurian stuff

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bunnyscar · 10 months ago

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The Siliven's Request: Part 28

Manas paced restlessly back and forth in the cave, casting glances now and then at its entrance. They had arrived at the bathing pool just yesterday, having made it safely through the Vawaren forest thanks to Manas’ knowledge of it.

It was not just his worry for Sara, nor the anticipation of encountering his mother, nor even the uncertainty of his reception by Kelsin that was bothering him. The moment he had stepped into the forest, he had felt unease, an almost queasy feeling in his stomach. Seeing the familiar dark forest brought up memories. Memories he did not want to think about. Memories of his father, of Uncle Paine, of the deceitful royal court, of the crimes he had committed, of the melted puddle that had been his father.... Manas had never wanted to come back here. Never intended to. But now he had, and the thought of seeing his own people again made his stomach clench.

Manas paused his pacing, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Forcing his mind to think of Sara, he clutched at the memory she had shared of her own mother. There was good in the world, there was someone who accepted him and cared about him. He had to cling to that hope. No matter what he was about to face, Sara would stand by him; and if she stood with him, he could do anything, even become king.

“Sara!” Pim cried. Manas turned to see three figures entering the cave, one being Sara and the other two Siliven. “Pim!” Sara cried eagerly, then her eyes met Manas, and a look of joy entered her eyes. He smiled at her, his anxiety ebbing away slightly.

Sara waved towards the two Siliven, and they stepped in further. “This is Kelsin, your grandfather, and Chess, your nephew,” she introduced them.

Kelsin walked up to Manas, observing him carefully. Manas felt himself tensing up. He had not met with another Siliven since he left Vawaren, except for when he and Sara had run into Ven in Fairen. Just seeing another of his race made him wary, as if he expected this Siliven to hurt him. “So, you’re Manas,” Kelsin said. Then a smile broke across his stern face. “It is good to finally meet you, my grandson.”

With those words, Manas relaxed. Kelsin’s smile was not the same as Uncle Paine’s, but there was something in it that reminded him of the old gardener and his kind ways. “A pleasure to meet you as well,” Manas murmured.

“Well, let’s not just stand around. Please, everyone sit down, and let us discuss our plans,” the Overseer said cheerfully.

Once they had explained, Kelsin said slowly, “So, your plan is to win over Silivens in Vawaren and use their help to take over the palace, forcing the queen to step down, is that correct?”

“In simple terms, yes,” Manas said.

“And is this plan something you, Manas, want to do? Are you doing this for the Siliven people? Or are you merely following the Overseer’s orders?” Kelsin asked, shooting a glance at the Overseer.

Manas paused, then said slowly, “I have reservations about becoming king. I am not that experienced at leading, and...I have not been in Vawaren for a long time. But if this plan will end the war, I am willing to go along with it. And if there are other Siliven like Uncle Paine—who are not cruel like the royalty--I would be willing to help them. If I can.”

Kelsin studied Manas, then said, “Did you ever have remorse over what you did to your father?”

Sara started and looked anxiously at Manas, who had narrowed his eyes. Even the Overseer and Pim looked somewhat startled at the question. At last, Manas replied, “Not at first. All I felt was hate and bitterness." He paused, then continued, "But if I continue to hate, I will become like my father or worse. I don't want to kill anymore. I...regret what I did."

With a nod, Kelsin sat back and smiled. “I see. If that’s the case, then I will support you. What say you, Chess?”

Chess, who had been listening with a very serious expression, answered, “I too will support him. Please lead us into peace, Manas.” Kelsin and Chess both bowed their heads to Manas. Awkwardly, Manas thanked them and asked them to raise their heads. Kelsin left soon afterward to contact the Silivens, saying that he would try to bring them that evening. Chess remained with Manas and the others, discussing further the plans for infiltrating the palace.

There was an eager, anxious air in the cave as they waited. Despite the anticipation he was feeling, however, Manas also felt as though a great weight had been taken off his shoulders. With Sara's help, he had been slowly letting go of his bitterness and anger towards his father, and now it felt like it had finally slipped away, disappearing into the dark corners of the cave. He was strangely free, even though he was about to take on great responsibility. Free of his hate. Free of the shadow his father had cast over him. Free to change.

Link to Part 27:

#original story #fantasy #siliven #freedom #the characters need more fleshing out but needed to move on #something to work on when I finish and revise

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treasureplcnet · 1 year ago

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someone on the bodies production team you have to release more layout/bts pictures of charles whiteman's flat please. this is a great start but i need to know him better. particularly if it's got about as much mould as a second year uni house and if he owns as many chairs as it seems LOL

#ok the joke is at his expense but im already romanticising this shit #20-something loser karl weissman moves into the worst flat of all time and makes it a home #hangs a picture of his parents' wedding against the worst wallpaper you've ever seen #just buys what he likes and calls it decor #how else can you explain the fucking model boat next to the fucking telephone. AND YOU MAY TELL ME 'oh thats just random set stuff'#NOT TO ME!#and it stays until he's in his mid 30s. develops a habit of not cleaning up along the way #the shot where he seems to have taken off his shirt/tie/jacket and then dropped them off on various pieces of furniture. HE LIVES LIKE THIS #also entertaining the idea that its his parents' old stuff that he can't bring himself to throw out ..#i will created a fully fleshed out character using 8 episodes and fever dream visions if i have to #karl weissman #bodies netflix #edit: the original tags are above but since then i joined the discord and got to add these pictures LOL #saved this post as a draft bc i was like. i cant annoy people on the tag any more than i already have #doesnt matter. forcing this into the tag like a week after i made it anyway #im still so interested in the fact that it seems like there are more rooms that we never see #outside this bedroom and living space (and the bedroom isnt clear in the show either)#like. i rly need a 360 house tour NOW.#ALSO I FEEL LIKE A TOWN CRIER NO I DONT THINK HE HAS MOULD BUT IT WOULD BE FUNNY!!!!#the chair next to the liquor rly is something. hes MY babygirl

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longagoitwastuesday · 4 months ago

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I am liking Jujutsu Kaisen, way more than I imagined I would, but I foresee it will let me down and it's keeping me from enjoying this as much as I could haha

I think the characters and dynamics are well set, and I think many of them have an incredibly good and deep potential, but I would be willing to bet they'll not get a proper development, enough for them to really hit. A well assembled set of gears is not enough to make the movement go, you have to wind the clockwork.

I think Gojo and Megumi have a fascinating and very complex dynamic, but I doubt it will be given the time and care that imo it needs to actually work. And it is going well enough for now! One could see the intimacy between them was deeper than the one Gojo had with, say, Yuji and Nobara ever since the very first few episodes despite the fact Fushiguro too was a first year. But the pieces forming what they have are extremely complex, and it just wouldn't be realistic if it doesn't show, even if in a not showing way, or if it doesn't have consequences or implications.

It's one of those dynamics that shape one's life, the way one regards the world, the way one establishes or not relationships with other people. It's one of those dynamics that could be full of fondness, gratitude, resentment, admiration, trust, and that imply intimacy, the good kind or the bad, even if in just the knowledge of someone who's been a constant through your life. It could, and would, imply a myriad of feelings, and probably in such a mix it could imply contradictory feelings too. Even the nothingness would weight, even the nothingness would be significant and meaningful.

Gojo took Megumi and his sister under his wing, the son of a man who murdered him, because of both selfish and selfless reasons. Megumi looks like Toji. What does Gojo feel about this? How does Gojo deal with this? How does Gojo go about taking care of Megumi? Would he walk him to school? Make him breakfast? Celebrate his birthdays making him blow candles? Did he take him to the zoo? Does the relationship between them feel professional or is it something more? Gojo appreciates his students, but is Megumi to him just another student? When Gojo faces Sukuna in Megumi's body, did he see the kid he raised, or does he just see Sukuna in one of his students' body? Did he have one faint wavering instant? And how does Megumi feel about this? Is he resentful of him? Resentful of the situation? Of the selfishness behind his actions? Does he feel like a pawn? Is he grateful? Does he resent feeling grateful? Would he rather not? Does he love Gojo? Does he feel nothing about him other than what he could feel about a teacher that sort of annoys him but knows he's reliable in his strength? Does he think it unfair, cruel or unfeeling that Gojo is close, closer perhaps, with Yuuji or Yuta, considering their story? When Sukuna slices Gojo in two, does the remnants of Megumi's soul tremble?

And not just Megumi and Gojo. Yuuji and Nanami, Gojo and Nanami, Yuuji and Fushiguro, Nobara and the boys, or Nobara and Maki, Todo and Yuuji or Yuta, Gojo and Yuta, Megumi and his sister. Gojo and Geto, even! If the pieces are well set, the dynamics are intriguing, interesting, and have potential to be deep, but then the characters have like two plot relevant scenes that punch you hard, but little more, it's not nearly enough. Especially not nearly enough for the enormity that is shonen dynamics and situations. And the potential existing at all, and then not delivering, makes it all the more frustrating when you're left with something mediocre that could have been so good.

The development of dynamics through not only a few plot relevant gut wrenching moving scenes, but also the smallness of life, is important. The friend who recommended this to me said that those things were just unnecessary filler, but I disagree. I think there's a big difference between a large amount of anime-only filler episodes whose existence is based on the fact they had run out of manga chapters to animate, and moments of quietness. The low stakes character-driven moments of quietness can be so telling and so insightful, and they are so satisfactory when brought back later in higher stakes situations. My friend teased me there was no scene of Gojo making breakfast to Megumi, that it would be an idiotic idea, but it would be so telling. How he makes breakfast, what they eat, if he tries hard or if it's all mechanised, if they have personal bowls or if they use whatever, if he just buys them some pastry on the way to school, if the way they have breakfast changes through the years, or if he doesn't make them breakfast at all! All that would be very insightful on their dynamic and its evolution. All that would give a glimpse on how they regard each other and why, even in the present. All that could become meaningful in tense situations and high stakes scenes.

These moments also let the plot breath; if a lot is happening all the time, if every character is always experiencing trauma after trauma, the entire story is so emotionally draining that at some point you don't even care all that much. Besides, these nothing moments or low stakes plot arcs, besides deepening and developing dynamics, also let some in-world time pass, which would make the intimacy and bond between characters more believable imo; between Yuuji eating Sukuna's finger and their last confrontation in December how much time has passed? A few months? Am I truly to believe these characters are so everything to each other in only a few months?

Without some smallness, some repetition, some daily life, some low stakes not plot-centric development, the dynamics don't hit, they don't truly feel fleshed out, and dynamics as complex as the ones Megumi and Gojo have, or as supposedly meaningful as the one Megumi has with Yuuji or his sister, should be fleshed out if they're going to exist at all. Otherwise they'd risk making the writing feel awkward and fake. Besides, if the dynamics felt well fleshed out and realistic, they would shape the way the characters interact and act, and how they deal with situations, thus being plot relevant.

The shonen genre has so much happening all the time, the stakes are so high, the dynamics are so rooted in big events and the relationships carry enormous weight and implications. Yet they barely get developed, and it feels so stupid, so plain, the absence of something so important noticeable like a constant void, a shapeless nothingness present in every scene. It makes the characters feel like cardboard figures. Jujutsu Kaisen is already getting a better job than many, but I doubt it will do enough for what I've heard, and I fear I am bound to feel let down, and bound to feel unmoved.

After all, if not enough time and care has been given to develop a dynamic, I am not going to feel pressured by the high stakes; if not enough time and care has been given to develop the dynamic between Megumi and Yuuji, as good potential as it has I am bound to feel little for this last confrontation between Sukuna and Itadori, and his effort in getting Megumi back.

#It's not that I think everything has to be character driven or take a lot of care about dynamics #Death Note for instance works well without it. There's juice in the dynamic between Light and his father and the role of Matsuda there #and it works well with Light's views and their evolution and the whole Kira situation. It isn't much. It doesn't need more #But Death Note doesn't truly drop something as big as Gojo and Megumi to then do barely nothing about it #('But L and Watari' not the same at all. That was deepened in the anime and besides Watari is not one of the main characters)#Or Megumi and his sister. If we see barely nothing of Megumi and his sister other than shiny flashbacks of her #how am I to feel moved by it all beyond superficial emotions? I don't know. It just feels so like cardboard to me #And it annoys me! It annoys me a lot! Because Jujutsu Kaisen has amazing potential! The dynamics and characters could be amazing!#But I don't trust they'll live to their full potential and the potential existing for nothing is ruining this for me xD #Jujutsu Kaisen #Sorry this time I'm tagging it. I want to find this and see if I was right when I'm finished. I think I'll read the manga too #The condescending filler breakfast comment by my friend was ironic considering the Kramer vs. Kramer breakfast scenes exist #Breakfast can be so telling. And besides he loves the Chainsaw Man coffee scene so I don't get why not breakfast #But truly some small daily life moments can tell us a lot about a character that we could recognise later on in high stakes scenes #such as how they deal in tense situations‚ what makes them snap #how they go about dealing with a problem.#Sometimes it could be smaller moments or conversations what makes characters reconsider things‚ not just having Sukuna rip their heart out #In Pandora Hearts the conversation between Elliot and Oz about the book series they love and their favourite characters becomes key #Oz's development and how he regards things‚ his own person‚ and how he deals with situations will be shaped later on by this conversation #till the very end. The entire main character's development is shaped by a 'filler' conversation.It's not filler. It's just not a fight scen #Shonen manga readers find everything filler except for fights which is ironic considering that many fights in shonen feel unnecessary #Breakfast is unnecessary. Just filler. Fighting thirty seven secondary monsters or chapter after chapter of physical training is not. Okay #Things can be small but plot relevant. If it shapes and fleshes out and deepens a character or a relationship it is not filler #And mainly MAINLY for the love of everything good if you're going to make a fucked up or Meaningful Beyond Everything dynamic #give it time and care. Actually write it. Don't give me two panels and one conversation after some life and death situation. It's not enoug #Especially if I'm to believe they are important. Make me believe they actually are #I don't know... This issue with not trusting the development of very well set potential in Jujutsu Kaisen #has not only been keeping me from thoroughly enjoying the series‚ but actively keeping me from watching for weeks #It makes me doubt if I want to spend my time in this at all since after all time is limited and we can but spend it in a handful of things #A pity. I really love some things and I really think Megumi and Gojo could be everything to me haha the Heathcliff/Hareton vibe gets me

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icewindandboringhorror · 1 month ago

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Recent ones of these even though they all look the same lol.. forcing myself to document progress..

#I can average like 2500 words a day for a while and then something gets in the way and I don't write for a week or something #which then sort of erases my previous Doing Good At Keeping Up With It lol.. but... alas #Still moving slowly forward...#There's a 'community board' place in game where you can go to look at a few things and some of whats there is little 'odd jobs' the player #can do for a little extra coin (since you can buy items in the game/might need coin).#Thhough of course since it's just interactive fiction/visual novel it's not like... actual minigames or something. Just like..#mini stories of your character going places and doing stuff and having some interactions with the other places in the world #Like for example since modern refrigerators don't exist in this world one of the odd jobs you can do is help with doing ice deliveries #or there's one odd job where you assist a guy recharging the city's main bell tower/time keeping place by helping him go around and replace #the iriminel crystals (kind of like magical batteries - stones that are able to store energy that way and be used to fuel passive #enchantments). or one where you help food prep for the cooks at a nearby automat. etc. etc.#Just little short things to get a better glimpse of how the wider city is outside of just interacting with the main characters. plus earn #a tiny bit of coin. Though because they're so short there's not really branching paths or anything much for choices beyond #usually an optional dialogye menu where you can talk to the person you're working with and ask them personal #or work related questions if inclined to do so. It'd be cool if they were more in depth but.......erugh...#I have so much writing left to do already lol.. Also since it's really just to get money I could have just had them #all be like a single sentence of 'you go here and you do this all day then you come home. + 15 coins. yaay' and thats all #So maybe it's a middle ground to elaborate upon them at all. Just enough extra details to maybe be a little interesting #like ''ooh my character is in a little cart riding through the misty morning forest on their way to deliver ice'' . but also not so much #that it takes away time from like... the literal actual main game lol #ANYWAY. That's what all these are. There are like 10 optional little world exploring/job things you can do. and each I guess seem to be #about 2.500 words ish. That's including the optional chatting menus though. but still. reasonable for a little side thing I guess.#I got finished with one character's quests and stuff so I decided to take a break to work on some of the other little things like the Odd #Jobs and the 8 characters you can find around the world to have short conversations with that aren't actual main characters either. etc.#Then I shall return back to the Main Actual Things. ... augh...... still so much to do...#Which I could also just cut everything extra out but... idk.. since it's mostly all text I feel the need to give more options to flesh out #the actual setting somehow. Since in a 3D game you can walk around and explore the world and stuff. And of course there #are pictures. but it would take me infinitely longer to do detailed art of so much of the entire city youre in or etc. So i guess my versio #of still having some amount of ''exploration'' is just.. set up optional paths where more of the world can at least be Described.#You can't actually walk through a 3d orchard. or an elaborate bell tower. or an elven shrine. But you can Read About being in them LOL

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citrus-cactus · 1 year ago

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Trying to write a fic about Wyvern gargoyle culture is really fun and interesting, but oof, the no-names thing, in a prose-only format… can be a real struggle.

It requires one to get creative, and somewhat encourages one to keep the cast list as small as possible… but also it’s been a good exercise to give just a teensy bit of characterization and personality to some incredibly minor scene-filling OCs.

#gargoyles #disney’s gargoyles #do you ever make a couple of characters just because you need some sentient decorative furniture to move around a scene #and then you write two (2) adjectives to differentiate them #and all of a sudden their place in the story and their relationship to each other becomes crystal clear and you’re like OH.#you ARE characters now #shit. let me mention you a couple more times because that’s really good actually #as if the whole fic wasn’t me trying to flesh out minor canon characters sfggdsffddx #all that to say: I did some more writing today #yay!#the cactus speaks

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dandyshucks · 2 months ago

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seeing ppl say that theyre going to kiss and hug all his trauma away makes me insane bc thats so not how it works 😭😭😭 not to be "u don't understand him like i do" but CMON... that sort of trauma doesnt work like that.... its not a "romance fixes everything" situation.... and i know half the time ppl are just being somewhat silly and not actually serious but i just get so irritated w the trope of "just get into a relationship and it'll fix all ur trauma :]" bc its EVERYWHEREEE

#im not jealous even im just annoyed bc thats not gonna do jackshit for the guy 😭 even the canon version #actually ESPECIALLY the canon version of him fjkdl that guy needs stability and to learn about emotional regulation #i think romance would actually be . really bad for the canon version of Guz fhfkdl i think it'd make his issues a lot worse #and not in a fun way #he's gotta work on stuff a bit first and then maybe he'd be okay to get into a relationship of some kind #my version of the guy I've expanded on and fleshed out things so that theres more to work with fjdkdl #the canon version is very flat and would be rly difficult to work with bc he's so flat in terms of character depth #but my version... he's got a few different directions he can go in and theres more than one road to recovery he can take #idk if recovery is even the right word bc irt trauma like that... there is no Before! theres nothing to go back to #u just have to move forward towards something brand new and unknown. which is scary. but um. I'm getting sidetracked fhdkdl #i do want to hug and kiss him yes but it won't make him better. at least not for a long long while.#theres a lot of work to be done before a kiss would come even close to ever fixing anything djdksl #dandy.cmd #💜so good at being in trouble

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laugtherhyena · 3 months ago

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Playing Bomb rush cyberfunk has been a crazy experience so far because i feel like I've been enjoying the game just as much as I'm not doing so

#which is crazy because i went in with the impression that this would be jet set radio but better #and really? the biggest thing is doing for me rn is making me wanna play old-school Jet set radio again #who the fuck looked at Jsr and thought “Hey you know what would make this game even better? 300 different inputs”#which makes it impossible for me to play this solely on the controler (the main way i play games since i suck ass at the keyboard)#because it just doesn't have that many buttons #so at times i gotta be fucking double welding this shit with both the keyboard and the controler and it's awful #because I don't have that good of a motor coordination or whatever the proper term is #on top of that. why did we need a fighting mechanic? that's so fucking unnecessary when Jsr already had a gret way of dealing with that #which was by integrating the grafitti mechanic with the fighting by having it be the way you damage opponents #just adjust that to make it take more hits/graffitis in the fight and boom. you're done. perfectly functional #all it does is take away 3 BUTTONS in a game that already has a shit load of inputs #and ik these same buttons are also used to doing tricks on rails but like. that's such an useless addition #because I'm not actually doing anything like this isn't pulling a move on a fighting game. no skill is needed. I'm just mashing buttons #so you might as well not have both of these machanics and have the buttons be set to do other. more important comands #like the one to manually continue a combo on the ground after getting off of a rail. i gonna hold control on the keyboard and move #my joysticks at the same time whenever i need that and it fucking sucks #so yeah whenever i play it again I'm definitely gonna try mapping my controler to my liking and we'll see how it goes #unrelated to the gameplay i just gotta say. sorry but the songs are so mid #if i knew how to mod things i would replace every single one of them songs from jsf and jsrf. absolutely no doubt about it #like the songs in the jsr games are so unique and distinct from one another. even the ones that have a similar style. which makes them #incredibly memorable like i still remember a good chunk of them from the top of my head and i haven't played that game in months #bomb rush cyberfun songs just feel so samey and forgettable #a similar thing can be said for the environment designs and especially their colors imo #everything within the same area feels incredibly samey and not memorable. and you may think “Carol it's a whole area of course it's gonna #look similar to itself“ and to that i say. yes. cohesion is important but take a look at Kogane and Bento from jsr and you'll see #how despite being the same area and having the a coherent color pallet and overlay applied to it their locations are distinct from eachother #and memorable to the point where i can recall how to traverse thought each area and where they lead to easily #in bomb rush it feels like I'm just looking at the same place everywhere in the map #on a good note! i like the story so so much it's definitely what's gonna cary me through playing the whole game #because jsr really needed more story and fleshed out characters that aren't just different designs you can play as

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spiritsong · 8 months ago

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BG3 OCs

Meet my various Tavs and Durges! Aune, the first on this list, is my very first Tav. I fell in love with her SO hard that there are two other AU/world-state/timeline versions of her — both durges; one Resist and one Embrace. This trio is the nearest and dearest to me and it shows through their very elaborate backstories & lore. I hope you enjoy learning a bit about them & the rest of the OCs!

(Alt. text available for all images, except for the dividers/spacers. Includes transcript of the text on the images, plus descriptive text.)

bio: Aune was brought into the world via a ritual birth; one of great tragedy and bloodshed. When her Lolth-sworn mother found her newborn child lacking, Aune was abandoned on the streets of Menzoberranzan and was raised as a slave. She escaped to the surface in her young adulthood, possible only through the help of Eilistraee’s followers. Her life improved a hundredfold within the Church, but she still felt out of place — too abrasive, too cold, too self-serving. Things changed for the better after Aune fell in love with a fellow Eilistraeean warrior who challenged her worldview, but after just a year of bliss, she lost her lover to a violent death. Racked with grief and more lost than ever, Aune was in the midst of a 5-year long crisis of calling before being kidnapped by mind flayers…

bio: Though born through the same means as tav!Aune, Bhaal had a different fate in mind for Aune. At 15, durge!Aune kills her slave-master — freeing herself and unwittingly summoning her faithful butler, Scleritas. After years of living amongst Myconids in the Underdark, Scleritas finally convinces Aune to surface in Baldur's Gate and claim her birthright. Years later, she finds herself on a ravaged beach with very little memories — only a kinship with mushrooms, soil, and bones; a reverence for the boundary between life, death, and rebirth; and a restless craving for spilling blood.

AUN XORLARRIN, the Bloodsinger (tag | she/her | half-drow living as a drow | love interest: gortash, ascended!astarion | playthrough: not started)

bio: Aun was the fateful ritual child born to a zealous priestess of a Menzoberranzan House. She was the culmination of everything her mother had worked towards; a child with power and a destiny, one to be shaped and molded into a tool to serve her own ambitions. The secret of Aun's lineage — that she was a half-Drow — was carefully guarded, known only to a few. Aun was raised in the way of Lolthite women (to be cruel, cunning, and ruthless), but her blood ultimately called to a different deity. On her 17th birthday, Aun awakens. She heeded the song that keened in her blood; it drew her ever southward to Baldur's Gate, sometimes in the company of a strange imp. Within just a few days of being on the surface, she meets a young man with dark, tired eyes and a pained smile; neither with any awareness of just how tightly woven their fates will become when they meet again years later, Chosen before Chosen.

bio: Somewhere in Faerûn, a wee tiefling is relinquished to the Fey. They grow up lonely and isolated in the Feywild under the care of an Archfey guardian whose attentions are few and far between. Despite living a lifetime in a Plane so replete with magic, the tiefling had no skill for wielding it. One day, they are told by their guardian that they must return to Faerûn, a place they are unlikely to survive due to their many inadequacies. When the Archfey offers them a pact - powerful fey magic that they could use to fight and protect; fey magic that could make others love them - the tiefling accepts. Lethe was strange, unsettling, and tricksy, as all fey-adjacent should be. Still, they spent their first year in Faerûn carving out a space for themselves — making a living performing in taverns, seducing strangers, and charming people before cleaning out their pockets. It was all going just fine until Lethe got yoinked up onto some nautiloid.

VIR, the Exiled Elturan (tag | he/him | tiefling | love interest: lae'zel | playthrough: in progress, act 1)

bio: Vir was born into an Elturan family of proud Hellriders and was expected to take up the mantle - especially by his mother, who had always desired to do so but could not because of her poor health. By the time Vir is old enough to form memories, all that is left of the family is his mother and himself. The pair are of humble means, and as Vir ages, his mother grows sicker, and he becomes more disenchanted, eventually resorting to thievery to support the two of them - even as he simultaneously trains to join the Hellriders. Inevitably, he is caught, and against all odds, escapes his severe punishment by fleeing the city; effectively now an exile. In his exile, Vir makes a life of bounty-hunting while also becoming accustomed to the ways of the land and its creatures. He has a skill for it, and is mostly content with his new life; but he can't keep out the resentment he feels towards his mother, his city, and its protectors, who he feels utterly failed him. Or the guilt he feels for abandoning his mother - especially once Elturel is dragged into the Hells. He wrestles with the risk of reentering the city once it returns, but his decision-making is rudely interrupted by some illithids.

#EDIT: hellsite flagged this post so it's not visible on the dash or tags 🙃#if you read even part of this ily #I swear I tried to keep the bios SO SO brief like. I was fighting out in these streets okay. constantly reediting and cutting bits out #so if anything sounds weird or like there's crucial information missing WELL that's why #I've been fussing with this post for over a month now 💀 and I could keep going but I just need to put it out there so I can move on #and actually have an OC page/post/section again lmao #in the future I might add more characters to this post. because there are more lol 🥲 but they're not as fleshed out as the ones above so #it'll be quite a long while until then #might do like a super brief post for the WIP OCs ?? we'll see!#oc: aune #oc: durge!aune #oc: embrace!aun #oc: lethe #oc: vir #durge #tav #bg3

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