#creating a digital file for the chapter

[ezlo-x]

If I keep at this pace w the comic it should be done around July

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter nine: Under Pressure

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

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Series Masterlist

The afternoon had come and gone quickly, the hours slipping by unnoticed as you focused on the task at hand. Since In-ho had left your quarters earlier to tend to the business of the Games, you had thrown yourself into the design for the VIP room, the thoughts from earlier swirling around in your mind as you worked. The layout was coming together faster than you expected, the ideas you’d envisioned starting to take shape on the screen in front of you.

You had decided on the details for the room—a space inspired by Ancient Greece, with dark marble walls and deep green plants to contrast the heavy architecture. You had even sketched out the placement of the statues, where they’d be posed like ancient figures, their sheer togas whispering against the dark air. You’d chosen minimal gold accents—just enough to catch the light, just enough to hint at opulence without overwhelming the room. It wasn’t much, but you had done what you could to breathe some life into the cold, hollow shell that the VIP room had been before. You wanted something that would feel alive.

When you finished the layout, you felt a moment of relief. It was done. You sat back in the chair, rubbing your eyes tiredly. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been working—time always seemed to disappear when you were lost in the task.

You glanced toward the door, the space now quiet and still without In-ho’s presence. The silence felt heavy, but not the same way it did when he was distant. Now, it felt like there was something waiting to be acknowledged. You didn’t know what it was, but it was there, lingering just beneath the surface.

You took a deep breath, pushing the thoughts aside. There was no point in dwelling on it. You had work to do.

After reviewing the layout one last time, you gathered up the sheets of paper and the digital file on your tablet and made your way down the hall to In-ho’s office. The room was silent when you entered, the heavy wooden doors closing softly behind you. In-ho was sitting at his desk, his eyes focused on the tablet in his hands. He didn’t look up when you entered, but you could feel his attention shift toward you the moment you approached his desk.

“I finished the layout,” you said, holding out the tablet with the digital design for him to see.

In-ho didn’t respond right away. He leaned forward slightly, his masked face unreadable as he studied the layout you’d created. His fingers brushed over the tablet screen, moving slowly as he scrolled through the details. The room was so still you could hear his faint breath. You didn’t know what he was thinking, but you had to trust him to make the final decision.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he looked up at you. His gaze was steady, but you couldn’t tell if he liked the design or if he was just processing it.

“It’s good,” he said simply. “I’ll approve it as is. It’s what we need.”

Relief washed over you, the tension in your shoulders easing as you allowed yourself to breathe. He hadn’t rejected it, hadn’t dismissed the work you’d put in. He approved it.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

He nodded, his gaze briefly flicking back to the design before he set the tablet aside. “Get the contractors on it. We don’t have much time. The VIPs will be here tomorrow.”

You nodded in understanding. The second day of the Games had arrived, and with it, the first wave of VIPs. They’d be descending on the compound tomorrow, and the room had to be ready. There was no room for delay.

You started to leave the office when In-ho’s voice stopped you.

“Wait,” he said, looking up from his desk. “I’ll need you to contact the contractors personally. Have them start immediately. And make sure to check in with the staff to make sure the preparations are in place for tomorrow.”

You turned back toward him, surprised by the sudden responsibility, but it wasn’t unwelcome. The thought of managing everything yourself felt… empowering in a way. It gave you a sense of control, a sense that you weren’t just a piece in this strange, warped game anymore.

“I’ll handle it,” you said, a new sense of confidence rising in your chest. You had something to focus on, something concrete. Something to fight for. “I’ll take care of it.”

He nodded once, his eyes narrowing slightly as if sizing you up, but not in a threatening way. It was more like he was… watching you. It made you feel more aware of the space between you. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, just… heavy. Like he was silently waiting for something.

“You’ll do well,” he said softly, and though the words were simple, there was a sincerity in his tone that surprised you. “You always do.”

The compliment, however casual it seemed, hit you in a way you hadn’t expected. You weren’t sure what to say in response, so you simply nodded.

“Thank you,” you said, finally turning to leave. Your heart was still pounding from the weight of his words, but you didn’t let it stop you. There was work to do, and you weren’t going to waste any more time.

———————

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. You spent the next few hours making calls, reaching out to the contractors, getting the details sorted for tomorrow. You were quick, efficient, making sure everything was on track for the arrival of the VIPs. There was no room for mistakes. Not with the pressure mounting.

When everything was finally set, you felt like you could breathe again. The room would be ready. The models, the plants, the statues—you had everything in place. You were almost there.

As the evening drew closer, you sat in the quiet of your bedroom. You were exhausted. But there was a strange, quiet pride in the work you’d done.

And as you sat there, feeling the weight of the day’s work, your thoughts wandered again to In-ho. The tension between you both had shifted, hadn’t it? Something had changed this morning after your conversation, something that felt more real. He had spoken to you like you weren’t just a stranger in his life, like you were someone he could trust.

But you still didn’t know where this was heading. You weren’t sure what he felt, or if he was even capable of feeling anything outside of the role he played. You couldn’t get ahead of yourself. You had to focus on what was in front of you. The Games. The room. The VIPs arriving tomorrow.

But when the door to the bedroom creaked open, and In-ho stepped in, mask in his hand, he looked at you with a hint of something. Something that you hadn’t seen before.

“The room is ready,” you said, standing up quickly, the business of the day still lingering in your voice.

In-ho gave a small nod, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing your words. “Good. I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly. But tomorrow… we’ll be back to the Games. Don’t forget that.”

You nodded, but the heaviness of his words lingered in the air.

“I won’t forget,” you said, the quiet promise hanging between you.

And for a moment, you didn’t feel quite so alone.

———————

Chapter nine!! They’re becoming closer! Lemme know what you think! Thank you! :)

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[frostyharbor]

MODERN WARMANCY

INDEX + INTRO

A Wizarding World x Call of Duty crossover simon "ghost" riley x witch!Reader disclaimer: the usual "JK Rowling sucks" and "I don't condone military violence"

When you join the quiet little Office of Magitech Integration at the Ministry of Magic, you're granted a top secret security clearance. It doesn't become relevant until years later, when your boss surprises you with a shocking revelation and the real reason why you were hired:

To create magically modified Muggle weapons to combat the rising Dark Lord Makarov.

There's only one task force mad enough to test such abominations. Their captain strikes you as a bit insane. The two sergeants treat you like a sibling. And the one in the mask? Well, he doesn't really have much to do with you at all.

At least, not at first.

A little adventure, told through snippets and one shots, on mixing magic and modern warfare. Reading the intro for context is recommended, but most other parts should be standalone and can be read out of order. All parts, unless otherwise stated in the chapter, are rated T. tags: crossover au, canon-typical violence, fluff, slice of life, background plot, romance

PARTS

UNBURIED | FAMILIAR | MOBILE HOME | ARTS & ENCHANTMENTS

↓ READ BELOW FOR THE INTRODUCTION ↓

“Welcome to the Office of Magitech Integration.”

“Nothing below an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ on your NEWTS. An Outstanding in Ancient Runes and Magical Theory.”

Bartholomew Thorne pauses, looking up at you over your credentials to give you an approving smile.

You smile back, aiming for cool and unaffected. Inside, your heart is racing. Please, please, please…

He taps another file on his desk. “Led the House E.L.F. project, too?” At your nod, he laughs. “Caused quite the stir at the ministry, that one.”

You remember. Your final two years at Hogwarts had been spent working with a development team on the House Enchanted Labor Familiar, House E.L.F. for short. After four semesters of hard work, a crude yet serviceable machine, equipped with the latest artificial intelligence and an arsenal of housekeeping charms, had been presented to the Ministry. 

Magical Ethics had shaken their heads gravely over the little bot. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had immediately submitted a flurry of complaints, stating this overreach in magitech would replace “willing elf labor”. 

Your only support had come from the House Elf Rights Advocates, who had enthusiastically applauded the innovation. But they occupied a corner of the Ministry even smaller than the one you currently sat in, and in the end it hadn’t amounted to much.

Back in the present, Thorne hovers only a brief moment longer over your paperwork before setting it neatly aside.

Folding his hands on the desk, he looks at you directly. “Now, why do you want to join this office?”

It’s a question you’re ready for. “Because I believe that the Muggle world has a lot to offer us, sir.” It’s a dangerous phrase you wouldn’t even think to utter anywhere else in the Ministry. “The Ministry still uses paper airplane memos to send information between departments; Muggles can do it in a second over email.”

You hesitate, and Thorne waves you on with a careless gesture. “We still use quills and parchment–they use pens and paper. If we need information, we have to go to a library—they have everything you could ever possibly need to know stored digitally, where anyone can access it at any time.” You catch your breath. “There is so much that we could do better—faster—if we’re given the chance to develop it.”

“It’s an uphill battle,” he warns gravely. “There’s too much old blood still in the ministry to accept hybrid products.”

“I understand.”

“And what do you bring to the table?”

“I’m smart.” You lift your chin. “I’m smart, I know what I’m doing, and the E.L.F. project gave me the experience to learn what works and what doesn’t. It taught me how to work on a team, too. And,” you force a little extra steel in your voice, letting it harden your tone. “I’m not afraid of a little challenge.”

Thorne’s eyes gleam. He stands and, a little shaky after your declaration, you stand too. 

“Well, then.” He offers his hand out to you and you take it. A flicker of electricity runs up your fingers and into your arm, like an oath seeping into the skin.

“Welcome to the Office of Magitech Integration.”

For an office you had assumed was generally ignored by the Ministry, the OMI is shockingly opulent.

You had been expecting basement-level offices, dim halls, and cramped workspaces. Instead, you walk into a bright and spacious atrium, the glass ceiling charmed to show a sunny blue sky. It’s so masterfully done that you can feel the warmth of the artificial sunlight on your back as you approach the front desk.

The receptionist looks up at you kindly, greeting you by name.

“That’s me,” you confirm, a little surprised. “How did you know?”

“I’ve got your badge here somewhere—it’s got your picture on it. Just a minute.” He shuffles through the stacks of paperwork on his desk. As he looks, more memos materialize in his inbox tray, which chimes a pleasant little melody at the new additions.

“What is that?” You ask, leaning over the desk for a closer look.

“Oh, those? Our Instant Inboxes.” He yanks the new paperwork out of the tray. “Whenever the boss wants to give us something, he just writes our name on it, slides it into his outbox, and—poof!” He laughs a bit sourly. “Now it’s on my desk.”

Now that you think of it, you hadn’t seen one flying piece of paper since you had walked into the office. That old dog, you think. He let me ramble about the Ministry memos and didn’t even mention this once.

“Here we are!” The man exclaims, fishing out your badge from between two files. He dangles it out to you by the lanyard, and you slide it over your head. “Now, Thorne wants you in Experimental Prototyping, but we’re still waiting on a few things to clear with your security clearance. Until then, you’ll be shadowing an officer on the Ethics and Oversight Council.” He laughs when you can’t disguise your grimace fast enough. “I know, boring old lot, aren’t they? But it’s good to learn sometimes what you can’t do before you learn what you can.”

“And,” he gives you a conspiratorial wink, “the atrium’s just for the stuffy officials. The real office is down that hall. I hope you weren’t hoping for peace and quiet.”

“No, sir.”

He waves you on with another laugh.

You walk away, your new badge suddenly heavy around your neck. The blow of being shuffled into Ethics of all places momentarily overshadows all else. You had been itching to get your hands on some tech, to strip it down and put it back together better.

Everyone starts somewhere, you remind yourself. Patience.

It isn’t until you’re halfway down the hall, headed for the door marked EOC, that the other details catch up to you.

Hang on…security clearance?

Much to your surprise, the EOC is much more lenient than the Department of Magical Ethics.

“They’re the real duffers,” one of them grumbles to you over morning tea, a few weeks into your assignment. “We know how to bend the rules a bit.”

You suppose they have to. Even though you’re not working firsthand on any projects, the ones that cross your desk for review are outrageous in nature.

On one memorable occasion, a handler wearing thick dragonhide gloves had brought in a mystery object swaddled in magic-suppressing blankets.

“You’re joking,” you say flatly when the blanket is opened to reveal a keyboard, of all things.

“I wish,” the senior officer says gravely. “It was supposed to motivate the user to work on their projects, but made them obsessed instead. The tester hasn’t slept in three days and had to be pried away.”

She flips the keyboard over, indicating the obvious runes etched into the back. You recognize Dagaz and Inguz. Completion. Goals. Strangely, there’s still a battery compartment.

You point it out. “Funny that they’d leave that if it runs off of magic.”

Together, you open the compartment and shake out the batteries onto the desk. They’re not a brand you recognize.

“Careful!” The senior barks when you automatically reach for one. You pull back your hand, but not before a fingertip brushes the side of one battery. You’re immediately seized with the urge to do something, anything, just as long as you’re doing it—

She performs a diagnostic spell with a graceful arc of her wand, hissing as red sparks fly over the table. “That’s why we didn’t catch it the first time—they snuck the charms in through the bloody batteries, not the keyboard!”

You get a front row seat to the row that ensues between Ethics and Prototyping, fighting the urge to make yourself small when some of the developers’ eyes find you standing behind the senior ethics officer. I’m on your side, you want to say, but at the same time, you understand the EOC’s reasoning.

“Promise me you won’t cut corners, kid,” your mentor seethes when you walk back to her office. “In this line of work, shortcuts get people killed.”

It’s a promise you try to adhere to in the following years.

You officially enter Experimental Prototyping and Development after two months spent shadowing the EOC. 

After the time spent among filing cabinets and old rule books—if you never saw a copy of the Ministry Rules of Experimental Procedures again, you’d die happy—the labs are a breath of fresh air. Fresh being relative; it’s mainly oil, ozone, and a whiff of gunpowder.

If the EOC is willing to bend some rules, the EPD is willing to completely bulldoze them.

“Don’t you worry about those old bags,” one of your new coworkers advises you after you hesitate over the latest project—a Muggle photocopier with the capacity to copy even magical moving pictures. You’re impressed until you notice the flaw—every individual in the picture can walk out of their frame and into the frame of another.

It’s a level of magic you were familiar with from the portraits at Hogwarts, but you didn’t think that it extended to the average photograph.

The original photo had been of an old couple waving, but now, ten copies of the man occupy one frame while ten copies of the woman occupy another. The remaining eight photographs stand empty. 

As you study the picture, one of the men makes eye contact with you and taps on the front of the picture, where glass would be if it were framed. He squints his eyes, leans forward, and breathes in front of him; a tiny cloud of fog appears on the photo. With one tiny finger, he writes two words: SU PLEH.

HELP US.

Blood running cold, you slam the photo facedown on the table.

Your coworker doesn’t even look up. “Gotta push the limits somewhere, or else you get nowhere, right?”

It’s your first real brush with the darker side of development. An eerie, lingering reminder that magic—and its users—doesn’t always play by the rules. But it isn't the last. In fact, it’s nothing compared to what comes later.

Years after the photocopier, when the true reason for your security clearance finally reveals itself, you’ll look back on this moment and think: That was only the beginning.

You’re tinkering with a laptop when a tap on the door breaks your focus.

It’s Thorne. There are a few more wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, and his hair has begun to go gray at the roots, but he more or less looks like the same man that had hired you four years ago.

If it had been anyone else, you'd have dismissed them. But Thorne’s not just your boss—he’s a mentor and a friend. And he wouldn’t interrupt without good reason.

Setting the laptop aside, you wave him in. With a flick of your wand, the pile of blueprints and design schematics cluttering up your extra desk chair banish themselves to a box in the corner of the room. 

He sits, and you follow. He’s not looking at you; he’s eyeing the innards of the laptop currently strewn across your desk. 

When he makes no move to speak, you clear your throat awkwardly.

“How can I help you, sir?”

He glances up sharply as though startled, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. 

For a moment, he still doesn’t speak. 

Then: “What do you know about this new Dark Lord?”

It’s a conversation-starter so far out of left field that it hits you like a brick. After gathering your wits, you scramble for some sort of coherent answer. “Er, I…I guess what the Prophet’s been reporting, sir.”

And the Prophet had been reporting very little.

Vladimir Makarov had been a name whispered in the halls of Hogwarts from your sixth year onwards. By the time you graduated, professors had adopted a permanently pinched, worried look. Professor Longbottom, if you recall correctly, had been especially stricken, and was absent from the school more often than not.

Makarov, a young Russian upstart, had been weaving in and out of the shadows since, making headlines one year and becoming virtually invisible for the next two. What baffled the Ministry, according to the Prophet, was that he and his followers didn’t appear to have any sort of manifesto. No cause.

Just chaos.

Thorne smiles grimly. “I’ll get straight to the point. Makarov is a dark wizard, yes. A powerful one. But he’s been working with Muggle fringe groups to extend his reach in their world as well.” He holds up a hand as you open your mouth. “Wait a moment. It gets worse. He’s been working with PMCs—Private Military Companies,” he clarifies, seeing your expression. “These groups are wreaking absolute havoc in the Muggle world.”

After a long pause, he saves the worst blow for last. “We suspect that they have been provided with magically-modified Muggle weaponry.”

The statement hangs in the air between you. Sentient photocopies, manic keyboards…every mishap from over the years pales in comparison.

“The Ministries—ours and the Muggle one—have worked together in the past during times of war. Top secret initiatives, of course. In the years of Grindelwald and Hitler, there were specially-designated hit squads from the DMLE that aided Muggle military operations in undermining the Nazi regime."

You follow the conversation only barely, sitting open-mouthed as Thorne continues.

"During the Muggle Cold War, we had our own spies stationed in the Soviet Union and throughout the Eastern Bloc. They helped the Americans and other NATO-aligned states gather intelligence.”

The implications set your mind in a spiral. “You’re talking about a massive violation of the Statute of Secrecy,” you say slowly. “How on earth did the Minister ever agree to it?”

“Because the right people in the right places recognized that these were conflicts that would affect the entire world, ours included. This wasn’t some petty spat between nations—this was nuclear war, kid.”

Nuclear. The word stabs into your brain like an ice pick. You have vague recollections of learning about it in primary school, remember seeing snatches of it on television (something something weapons of mass destruction), but your time in the Wizarding World has dulled your knowledge on Muggle warfare.

While you’re still thinking, Thorne moves on. “What I’m trying to say is, throughout history, there have been times when Magical Law Enforcement has worked together with the British Muggle army. And it’s looking like that time is coming around again.”

You have a creeping suspicion of what Thorne is getting at. It would violate every ethical rule in the book, but he’s got that hard look in his eye that tells you he’s not really asking. “And what does this have to do with the OMI?”

“If Makarov’s giving his Muggle followers modified weaponry, the Muggle Prime Minister wants his soldiers outfitted with the same.”

The laptop parts on your desk vibrate; a slip of accidental magic on your part. Scooting yourself away from the desk, you take a deep breath and try to control yourself. 

Thorne looks sympathetic but unyielding. “The Prime Minister says that soldiers are being shot to pieces in Kosovo. Some of them young men and women, just in their twenties—”

“Don’t manipulate me!” You interrupt sharply, and the laptop parts give a little jump. “I can read the implications for myself! It doesn’t change the fact that you’re suggesting we experiment in some of the most illegal branches of magic!”

Replacing flying memos with the Instant Inboxes? Harmless. Accidentally turning photographs sentient after putting them through a magical copier? A bit more worrisome, but fixable. 

But modifying a weapon has no other use besides war. Anything you create isn’t going to be used in an office, or to make someone’s life easier at home. It’s going to be used to kill.

“We’re not being asked to go out and kill enemies ourselves. Just…to level the playing field, is all.”

“Is that all?” you snip back, crossing your arms and looking away. You both know better. Just leveling the playing field is the first domino in a long line of consequences. Tip it over and who knows what will happen.

“This is why I hired you.”

The quiet admission makes you look back at your boss, eyes wide. “What?”

“Why I hired you. Why I gave you your security clearance. We always have to be on the lookout for new blood when facing situations like this.” His gaze is direct, unflinching. “You weren’t afraid to push boundaries and said you were willing to face challenges.”

“Challenges aren’t the same as war crimes, sir.”

“In this environment, we can’t always afford to split hairs. If it helps us beat Makarov and protect both the Muggle world and ours, would it be worth it?”

Would it? You think of what he described—poor Muggle soldiers torn to pieces after being ambushed with superior weaponry they couldn’t hope to match on their own. A world in the shadow of a new Dark Lord.

But you think, too, of the little man in the picture. Help us. The unintended consequences of innovation and experimentation. That had been a photo. These new projects would be weapons. Who could say where this path would lead?

Thorne looks at you expectantly, head tilted to the side as he waits for an answer. 

This is why I hired you.

Taking a moment to exhale in through your nose, you let the breath out after holding it for a few seconds. “Alright. Fine.” 

Thorne looks pleased, but you have to resist the urge to bury your face in your hands. “Where do we even start?”

“The beginning is usually the best place,” he says pleasantly, pulling a file out of thin air. He prepared for this, you realize, a bit sour. He knew you would say yes.

The file is slid across your desk, and you open it with no small amount of trepidation. The paperwork that greets you is vastly underwhelming—it’s barely a few pages, most of it redacted.

“Am I supposed to do something with this?”

“They’re a Muggle task force so classified that most of their own government doesn’t even know about them. Get used to the secrecy.” 

Thorne leans in and flips through the pages until he reaches the one he wants, an agreement to the testing of magically-enhanced weapons with four signatures at the bottom. “This is what matters to us. They’ve agreed to be the first soldiers to test whatever we put out for them. We’ll be working with them directly to find what their needs are.”

“And when this is all finished?” You squint at the signatures, trying to make out a name among the loopy scrawls. You see two Johns, and maybe a Kyle. The final name is unrecognizable. “What’s to stop them from using them against us?”

“Can you use magic or not?” Thorne smirks. “You figure it out.”

author notes: got the random idea of Ghost tinkering with a sentient rifle and this was born. It will be updated every Sunday at 7:00AM. Some parts may be standalone, others may not, and all will likely be less than 1K words.

thanks for reading!

[therocketeer0501]

Emptiness Machine

Author note: Hey all! Thanks for sticking with this story! Little TW for this one. Talk of newsparks. Other than that enjoy!

Starscream X Mech Pilot Reader AU

Chapter 4

It spoke Cybertronian. Albeit rude Cybertronian but of course only the autobots would teach a pet like this something so vulgar. Starscream narrows his optics at the creature as it squirms in his servo. The feel of it soft and warm in his digits sending an uncomfortable shudder through his frame. It turns its gaze on him staring up at him with those uncannily Cybertronian features. Intelligence in its face he wants to forget. If it can speak, it can understand him surely. He records its speech as it chatters up at him, translating the files and creating a program so that he can communicate with it. It takes a moment but he clears his vocalizer before speaking.

“You are bold for such a little thing. You caught me off guard speaking intelligently like that. Here I thought your kind were just miserable little insects.”

•••

That deep voice rumbles through you as he speaks, finally a language you can understand. You can’t even be offended at the way he spoke about you, the shock of the interaction bleeding into fear as you feel the grip of his servos around your ribs. You remember the autobots describing the things that these bots had done during the war. As his crimson optics gaze down at you with contempt you can’t help but wonder why he hadn’t crushed you yet. When you speak, your voice comes out shakier than you’d hoped.

“What did you want with me.”

The mech ponders for a moment. Still studying you as if you were some sort of exotic animal. After what felt like an uncomfortably long pause, he turns his head towards the body of your mech. Now deactivated, her optics dim from the prematurely severed connection. He doesn’t directly answer your question.

“What were you doing with that femme? Were you like some weird pet to her?”

He sounded disgusted when he said the word pet. Raising a tiny hand, you point to the mech. Your voice still shaking a bit but filled with determination and a shocking courage.

“You think you’ve killed her but you haven’t.”

You take a moment to think. Maybe you could throw him off so much that you could escape. You remember the reaction of the autobots when you had first been scanned by Ratchet and Firstaid. It had been one of horror, comparing the way you scanned to that of a newspark. From what you understood, Cybertronians were born one of two ways. Through a spark bond or from a hot spot. The fragile things appearing as a newspark and transferred into a waiting protoform.

“You scanned a newspark signature didn’t you?”

He looked taken aback by that. Either your intelligence was scaring him or the way you knew exactly what had transpired despite not understanding him. You speak again trying to appeal to him. Though you had a feeling it was all for not.

“Did you give any thought to the fact that we might not be so different?”

You wave your hand towards your mech, back to yourself, and then to him in a sweeping gesture. Just then, the door burst open to reveal a new boxy looking blue mech. The red visor covering his optics practically glowing as he looked around. Despite having a mask covering his face, his frame was tense and he radiated an agitated energy. His voice tonal and growling as he spoke urgently in his own language to the mech holding you.

•••

Starscream stared down at you as you gestured to him. Not so different? You were nothing. An insect. The only reason Megatron hadn’t already glassed your planet was the fact that your species might be useful for the creation of synthetic energon. The energon unfit for consumption for anything with a spark. But very useful for powering drones and weapons. The distillation process recently discovered by Shockwave some cycles ago. He had discovered that the organic creatures could be drained of their life force and condensed into this synthetic monstrosity. Personally, Starscream found this absolutely abhorrent.

He didn’t get time to process his thoughts though as Soundwave came bursting through the door. Looking frantically about the room, his visor falling on the body of the mysterious femme on the table.

“Starscream, query, where is the newspark?”

Starscream rolled his optics, the communications officer had always been much too sentimental for his taste. Letting his emotions get the better of him when it came to the care of his cassettes. Worrying over them and keeping much too close an eye on the life down on the planet below.

“There is no newspark you fool. Only this organic creature. Did you know they were intelligent?”

None of this was sitting right with Starscream as he looked back down at your confused face. The communications officer only nods as he walks over to the scanner. Seeing the signature for himself. Turning the screen towards Starscream, he points to the outline of your body and the origin of the weak signature. His voice a deep tonal growl as he addresses the SIC.

“Not just an organic.”

Those words made the energon in his lines grow cold again. Turning slowly to see the look of almost triumph on your face as if you had won. He makes the connection.

“What the pit have those Autobot fools done?”

[atalana]

but honestly if i had to sum up my entire feelings towards deltarune chapters 3 and 4 by listing a single favourite moment, it's when you're the abandoned soul listening at the grate while kris plays piano

like when i played through chapter 4 the first time i just sat there listening for ages

bc like 1) i have been saying for a while but especially in these chapters, deltarune is a fascinating game for the way it makes me as a player want to essentially stop being a player - not in a bad this isn't fun way but in a i genuinely care about kris and i would love to see more of them just being able to be themselves

and this is really. the only moment of that? we learn in ch4 that whatever kris is doing while soulless isn't entirely their own will either, they've got someone they're reporting to over the phone. and while that person's agenda is something they're much more on board with than what the player/susie/ralsei are trying to do, it's pretty clear they're not enjoying it either. eating the pie in ch1 was offscreen, and their soulless segments in ch2 and the rest of ch4 were in some way serving that agenda. but here, no, kris gets off the phone and they're clearly so tired and just need a break and to be themselves for a bit. and the way they go about that is by making themselves a glass of chocolate milk and then playing song after song on the piano

2) god this provides so much context for the piano parts of 1 & 2. at the end of both chapters if you interact with the piano in the hospital you can try to play it, which goes terribly. when you do it in ch2 susie makes a comment about oh thank god i thought for a second you could actually play it, and kris just glares at her. without the knowledge granted in ch4 that just comes across as stop making fun of me, but once you've heard kris play for yourself? then it's heartbreaking.

bc like, we know kris has always been a pretty quiet kid, we know they're not a fan of hugs or eye contact, the autism coding is strong with this one. we know they're someone much more likely to get a point across by doing rather than saying. all that in mind, and considering music was the first thing they turned to when they had that moment of freedom, i think piano was a genuinely important form of self expression for them. and not only losing access to that, but to have your friend make fun of you for not being able to play, that's gotta cut deep

(and that's the other thing - i don't think it's just that piano played by the soul wouldn't be theirs, i think they have skills the soul doesn't. like the other big piano moment in ch4 down in the dark world, yes the game gives you sheet music but it's too long to meaningfully follow, and you don't even have to look at it for that scene to happen. to me that comes across as kris can read music, but the person controlling their soul can't. they play terribly on the hospital piano bc while you are controlling them they can't do better. which makes it such a meaningful moment because without anything in the game having to say so or anything dramatic having to happen, you do kinda hand over control to them to play a piece that resonates in the way that only they are capable of)

3) the last tiny detail im so glad toby put in bc i find it so endearing - the audio files for kris' piano playing aren't digitally created (most likely someone on a midi keyboard but my point is they're played by hand). and i know that because kris does not play perfectly. they sound like most piano playing teenagers i know, they have skill but they are still learning, you can hear the parts where they break tempo because they need just slightly more time to get their fingers in the right position for the next chord. and again it's beautiful because it makes it theirs. unlike almost everything else in this game, they're not doing this because for one reason or another they have to. they're doing it because that's who they are, flaws and all. and i could listen to it forever

[icy-writes]

Writing Tip - Keep a story bible for your series.

Ok, I should explain.

What is a story bible?

It's where all the important info goes for stories - lists of characters and important info about them, major plot points and plot twists, themes, outling the entire story and/or chapters, settings and locations, descriptions of things you may need to reference later, research and well as references (like titles or links to youtube videos or books you used), music playlists (for the story and characters), timeline, and as much else as you can think of.

Story bibles are important in screenwriting for long running television series. You can tell when a show does and does not have them for the series continuity. Adapting them for your writing is just as easy.

Personally, I'm a fan of just picking up a composition notebook, some tabs, and markers, and going hog wild and creating it. (Yes, some things end up getting divided - usually the research - but it's fun.) A digital version is also super handy for when you don't have access to the physical thing. For me, anything I typed up, I go back and write it in the notebook later.

So, what do you need to create a story bible?

Well, as I mentioned, I use a composition notebook. Or any notebook. But you can go completely digital, if you'd like. Some people prefer to lump everything into a single file, while others create folders of docs containing all of their information. And there are some people who prefer the good ol' 3-ringed binder with dividers.

And I'm fairly certain there are a select few out there who use a dry erase board.

Really, it is entirely up to you to decide which medium you choose to use.

Happy writing!

[taleeater]

Fragile Part 7

Sorry for the wait! It was hard to focus while writing this chapter, so I might be editing it for mistakes here and there. I hope you like it! :] <3

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’, 'miss', and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, broken limbs, violence, drowning, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You were laying dazed on the cold metal floor. In too much pain to focus on anything else besides breathing. You heard a commotion, voices muffled through the thick glass. At least inside this tube they couldn’t touch you anymore. Your mind strayed to the turtles. You weren’t able to save them. You weren’t able to do anything. You just hope they can somehow get away safely. That April and Casey can somehow save them.

“I won’t ask again…. Where’s (y/n).” Leo growled. He grit his teeth as he lowered his stance, ready to strike.

Baxter Stockman was quickly typing commands into the program on his computer. Karai stepped in front of him and drew her katana.

“Out of your reach, Turtles.” 

“Aaaaand, there!” Stockman hit one last key on this computer and a red light started to flash on the tank, bringing the turtle’s attention to the crumpled form inside the glass. At the same time a multitude of files and programs started closing on the screen one after another, Stockman’s signature digital self-destruct program. Baxter stepped away from his computer and lifted his arms up triumphantly.

The sound of rattling pipes overhead catches your attention. 

“Ha! You’re too late, Turtles. For years, the Foot Clan has sought out the means to fight you mutants on equal footing. And now, we have our secret weapon! An endless supply of pure mutagen!!!” 

You heard a loud beeping sound, then a click, and the squeak of metal.

A gush of icy water pours down on you from above. The sudden cold shocks you and marginally distracts you from the pain. You pull yourself to the edge of the glass away from the heavy stream of water coming down from above, slowly starting to fill the base. You take a shaky deep breath and bang a fist on the glass. No use. Dizzy and numb, you look outside the tank for someone, something, anything that might help you. That’s when you see them.

And with dawning horror, they see you.

“Guys….?” You press your wet hand up against the glass. They’re here! They’re safe!!!

“(Y/n)....? (Y/N)!!!!” Leo shouts and lunges towards the tank. He tries to rush up to the glass but Rocksteady blocks his path. There’s blood on your cheek, and even a good distance away he can tell you’re in bad shape. 

“OUT OF OUR WAY!” Raph roared at Bebop and Rocksteady, crossing his sai in preparation for a fight.

“Uuuh hey guys? Why is (y/n) in a giant fish bowl…?” Mikey asked, nunchucks at the ready.

“They ain’t comin’ out anytime soon, short stack.” Bebop said with an evil grin. 

“You turtles totally fell for our trap!” Rocksteady chuckled.

Donnie immediately noticed the computer hooked up to the tank’s controls. He tried to subtly sneak past Bebop to get to Stockman but Karai stepped forward and blocked his path.

Karai pointed her sword at Donnie. “The Foot will be unstoppable.”

“And I will FINALLY get the recognition I deserve, for single-handedly creating an entire race of superhumans that will rule over the city!!!” 

“You’re crazy!! You don’t even know what kind of side effects that mutation will have on regular humans!” Donnie activated the electricity at the end of his bo staff, ready to fight Karai to get to Stockman. 

“I do have to thank you turtles for activating their mutant gene. Without your help, none of this would be possible!” Stockman’s laugh echoed through the large room. He waltz over to the canister filling up with the distilled mutagen from your blood. “We originally got (y/n) by a…. foreseeable mistake. But to our surprise, they survived where others had failed. And yet- their results were incomplete. Their animal DNA wasn’t materializing no matter what we did to them. So we came back to New York, where the population could supply us with countless more test subjects.” Baxter said cheerfully, popping the lid off the canister. “But now that we have the results we wanted, we have no need of them! We can preserve (y/n)’s body in a special chemical compound that will put them into a permanent hibernation. No need to worry, their body will be harnessed for science!” Stockman’s laugh was deep and evil, and to everyone’s shock-

He dumped the canister of mutagen over his own head.

Karai lept back out of the trajectory of the splash. Baxter’s laugh increased in volume as he began to morph and change. His head and eyes grew large, his body shrank, little papery wings sprouted from his back, and he mutated into a giant mutant fly. 

Bebop and Rocksteady were stunned by the transformation. “Eeeeewwww… he turned into a bug?” Bebop whined.

“Nasty!” Rocksteady shook his head. Neither of them were paying attention to the turtles so Raph and Donnie covered for Leo and Mikey to make a break for the tank you were in. By now it had filled enough that you were starting to float.

“We’re here babe! We’re gonna get you out!” Mikey reassured you. 

You whimpered helplessly. You were having a hard time keeping your head above water, not really able to swim with a broken dislocated arm and broken ankle. 

“Stay back!” Leo sliced at the glass, and Mikey hit it with his nunchucks as hard as he could, but their attacks barely left a scratch!

“Guys! We have incoming!” Donnie yelled as Stockman had started flying around the room, maniacally laughing as he swooped down and kicked the back of Mikey’s shell, almost knocking him over. 

“Dude, gross!” Mikey protested. Stockman looked to be drooling some kind of acid substance from his mouth.

Bebop and Rocksteady had recovered and started to charge towards them. Leo and Mikey had to jump away from your tank to avoid getting trampled. 

“Donnie, that glass is as hard as steel!!” Leo jumped up and kicked Rocksteady across his cheek, then retreated.

“What’re we gonna do? (Y/n)’s tank is already half full!” Raph shouted. He was using his sai to hold back Bebop’s tusks as he tried to charge them. 

You were doing your best to calm your breathing enough that you could float, but every time your head ducked below water you panicked. Your body was exhausted and protested against your desperate movements, but you needed to survive long enough for the boys to break you out.

“Donnie! See if you can turn off the water!!! I’ve got Karai.” Leo ordered

“Mikey! It’s you and me!” Raph called over, clanging his sai together and shouted a war cry running up to strike Rocksteady. 

“What?! What about the bug brained dude??!! Eep!” Mikey ducked as Stockman flew over his head. He looked down and realized he was kneeling at the feet of Bebop, who had taken the black taser out of his pocket.

“You wanna taste too, little man?” 

When Bebop flicked on the taser, Mikey saw the small stains of fresh blood on the pointed tips that buzzed with electricity. He looked back over to you struggling in the tank and how heavily injured you looked.

He saw red.

Mikey had a rare moment of true anger as he jumped to his feet and knocked the taser out of Bebop’s hand with his nunchucks, and in a flurry of rapid hits he beat back the warthog. He finished him off with a powerful roundhouse kick to the head.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU GET FOR MESSING WITH MY BAE!” He shouted triumphantly.

Raph looked back to Mikey with wide eyes, proud of his little bro for letting loose. “Woah. Way to go Mikey!” He ducked a hit from Rocksteady and punched him hard under his chin. Knocking him out cold. 

Leo was crossing swords with Karai. She was a skilled fighter. But he was much stronger than her. While he pushed her back with a heavy strike, she slipped on some of the mutagen that had spilled on the floor, allowing Leo to take advantage of the opening and disarmed her. He flicked her sword out of her hand and knocked her back. She glared daggers at him, quickly recovering. But seeing as Bebop and Rocksteady were knocked out, she opted for a tactical retreat.

“This is just the beginning.” She hissed and ran out of the lab door. 

Stockman was buzzing around your tank, still laughing maniacally. 

“You turtlezzzzz cannot defeat the mighty Dr Stockman!! I am invincible!! I am-“

Donnie turned on the taser at the end of his bo staff and vaulted it at the annoying human insect, striking him and electrocuting him, knocking him out of the air to fall on the floor with a gross splat.

“Good thing I always carry a bug zapper.” He deadpanned.

Donnie went back to trying to hack into Stockmans computer. He managed to get past the firewall with his hacking program, but he discovered that all of the interfaces connected to the tank control had been erased. 

There was no way to stop the tank from filling up completely. Donnie would have to write a whole new interface from scratch to control the tank.

There was no time.

You were running out of air, trying desperately to keep your head above water as the tank was almost full to the top. You took in one last deep breath just as the water consumed the last of the space. You held your good hand over your mouth and nose hard, trying to hold in the air, and floated down towards the bottom of the tank. 

No more air.

“(Y/N)!!!” 

“ANGEL CAKES!!!” Donnie and Mikey yelled out in panic.

Your eyes snapped open, hearing their muffled voices outside the tank. You swam over to the glass and met eyes with Raphael. He had picked a spot and began punching at the glass over and over again with his sai in his fists.

The needled jabs just managed to scratch the surface. 

You looked at him sadly through the glass. He was stressed, sweating and desperate to break through. Mikey had grabbed a chair and had chucked it at the glass from another spot but it just bounced off and broke on the floor.

Leo was standing behind Donnie with his hand on his shoulder, but his eyes didn’t leave your face. 

Time was running out. You were choking on the stale air in your lungs. Head getting dizzy from lack of oxygen. You removed your hand from your mouth and pressed it up to the glass, some bubbles of air escaping your mouth. Your eyebrows knit together to concentrate on not breathing in the fluid in the tank. But you were suffocating and in pain. 

It was hard.

You looked back up at Raph, and forced a smile on your face. You felt sad. You didn’t want them to see you like this. They felt so far away. 

Darkness was consuming your vision. The last remaining bubbles of air escaped from your mouth and your eyes slipped closed. 

“NO!!! NO-! (Y/N), STAY WITH US.” Raph pounded his fist hard against the glass. 

“DAMN IT.” Donnie frustratingly slammed his fist down next to the keyboard, his head falling into his hands. None of the lines of command coding he was typing in were working.

Leo left Donnie’s side and strode up to the tank.

“Move.” Leo ordered as he came up behind Raph. He unsheathed his swords and began slicing at the glass again. It was barely making a scratch. But combined with the small dents Raph had been making, he was slowly chipping away at the surface.

“Leo! If you can manage to cut 1.2 centimeters deep, it should weaken the glass enough to shatter with enough force!” Donnie yelled from where he was still furiously typing into the stationed keyboard. His attempts to unlock the system all in vain. 

Leo and Raph worked together to stab and slice at the weakest point in the glass until finally-

*crack*

A small fracture appeared in the glass. 

“There!!” Donnie called out. Raph and Leo switched to charging at the glass and ramming it full force with their shoulders. Over and over as the cracks grew wider and wider.

Mikey came over, and with a hand on Leo’s shoulder, the leader stepped aside to let his little brother help. Mikey joined Raph and rammed the glass again with such force the crack split all the way across the glass. One more strike-

The glass shattered on impact.

The gush of water that burst through swept Mikey and Raph off their feet. The floor of the lab flooded, and your body washed up on the floor. Lifeless and unmoving.

“(Y/N)!!!!!!” The boys all yelled. 

Leo reached you first, falling into a kneel at your side. He ripped out the two needles from your back and held you in his arms. Donnie rushed over and slid down into the other spot at your side, his goggles pulled into place as he quickly checked you over.

“They’re not breathing. Put them down flat, now.” Leo obeyed and laid you on your back. Donnie first pressed down on your diaphragm to check for water blocking your lungs, then began compressions. 

The room was dead quiet all except for the sounds of Donnie’s whispered counting as he pressed down on your chest. He paused, opened your mouth, pinched your nose, and breathed into your lungs. 

Mikey was nervously walking around you back and forth, and Raph watched you from a distance, a vacant expression as he watched your face for any sign of movement, pleading with himself for you to be okay. 

After what felt like an eternity, you coughed. Leo quickly rolled you lay on your side. You spit up water, gasping for air. You felt like you were coughing up a lung full of ethanol. 

Mikey cheered and Raph took a deep breath, covering his face with his hands. Donnie fell backwards onto his butt and pulled his goggles off his head, so incredibly relieved you were breathing. Leo rubbed your back comfortingly as you got your breathing back under control.

Once you got a suitable amount of oxygen back in your lungs, you whimpered. Your throat was burning and a pain in your stomach and chest made it hard to breathe.

Leo picked you up again, and held you close to his chest. Your eyes fluttered open and you winced at the bright light from the ceiling.

“Welcome back.” Leo said with a smile on his face.

“Leo…?” Your voice was quiet and scratchy. You looked around at Donnie, Mikey, and Raph that all came into view around you and Leo.

“Guys….?” You felt barely conscious. Head foggy and tired like you were still under water.

“We’re right here.” Donnie assured you, reaching down to pick up your good hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

All the fear and emotion of drowning and being captured suddenly crashed down on you all at once. You sniffed and big tears gathered in your eyes.

“I was�� so scared… I thought I was going to lose you….!” You hiccuped and sobbed as Leo held your trembling form tightly against his chest.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. I’m here. We got you.” Leo soothed, rubbing his hand down your back. He buried his nose into your damp hair and held you tight.

“You had us worried there for a minute!” Donnie was smiling at you, soft and relieved. Mikey was standing behind him rubbing tears out of his eyes.

“Let’s get you home.” Raph said, kneeling down behind you. 

“Wait. I need to splint their arm and their ankle first. Mikey, can you find me some-“

*crack*

“Will this work?” 

Mikey had already broken off the thin legs of a chair across the room. 

“Yeah that works fine.” He pulled out two rolls of gauze from one of the pockets on his belt, and took the offered sticks from Mikey, who knelt down by your feet. 

“What’re we gonna do about him?” He asked, motioning over to Stockman’s twitching form across the room.

The brothers all sneered at the fly mutant with similar levels of disgust on their faces, finding him rather gross. You smiled.

“Just leave him there, we can worry about him another time.” Leo offered, adjusting you in his grip. You winced terribly when your arm was moved. 

“….Is ...your arm dislocated?” Leo asked you, holding you upright in a sitting position, now thoroughly checking you over. 

Donnie and Mikey were working together to splint your ankle, Mikey holding up your foot while Donnie wrapped the splint to it.

“Let me see that.” Raph placed his hands on your shoulder and you clenched your teeth and whined quietly at the sharp pain.

“Leo, hold them still for a minute.” 

“Just hold onto me tightly, it’ll be over in a second.” Leo hugged you close, wrapping an arm around your good side.

Raph got hold of your tender arm, and with practiced ease, popped your shoulder back into place. You cried out loudly and buried your face in Leo’s shoulder, taking deep breaths. 

Raph tried to rub the soreness out of your poor shoulder. “Good job, princess. Now let Donnie get a look at that break.”

You hesitantly detached yourself from Leo, your shaking red and swollen arm was carefully picked up by Donnie, who set the splint and carefully wrapped the bandages.

“I’ll be able to get a better look at it with the x-ray machine back at home. For now we just have to be really careful not to jostle them too much when carrying them back.”

“I got em.” Raph volunteered. Leo looked to Raph, wordlessly nodding his head for his brother to take you from his arms.

“Careful of their arm….”

“Got it.” 

Without much effort, Raph scooped you up in his big arms. You winced as a sharp stabbing pain radiated through your stomach as you were held close to Raph’s chest.

Something was definitely wrong.

“I’m sorry, princess. It’s just until we get you home.” Raph apologized. Leo led everyone quickly out of the lab. 

Once back out in the hallway you had entered from, you noticed with visible shock the literal sea of bodies that covered the floor. Foot ninja. They fought through all of them, just to get to you.

Everyone exited the lab, careful to stick to the shadows as the sun began to rise. As the turtles made their way for their home, your stomach burned worse and worse with a white hot pain that radiated through your body. The movement of the city passing you by made you become dizzy, and your head felt like it was spinning. You felt nauseous and incredibly tired. 

“Hey Raph….?”

“Yeah princess?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you guys…. You had to save me instead….” You weren’t making any sense. Raph could barely hear you as the wind whipped past his head. You just felt so tired.

“Hey, stay with me, princess. We’re almost there. It’s okay.” Raph didn’t know what the right thing to say was. But your eyes were starting to slide closed.

“Can we…. Can we watch Princess Bride again…. When we get home….?”

Raph smiled at that.

“Yeah. We’ll watch it as many times as you want, short stack.” He didn’t care if his brothers teased him for secretly liking the girly movie. He didn’t care if he had to watch it with you a hundred times. He just wanted you to get better.

“We’re almost there. How you holding up?” 

Silence. 

“(Y/n)…?”

“Mmh?” 

Your eyes were closed.

“Come on, wake up, we’re almost there.”

He was desperate. 

“Mm…hm…” 

You hummed, but your eyelids felt too heavy to lift. You felt yourself sinking into a dark liquid abyss. You could no longer fight the pull.

“(Y/n)….. (y/n)? Hey…! Hey, no no no no no, you gotta stay awake. Come on princess…! (Y/N)!!!”

You felt Raph try to shake you awake, felt his muscles tense as he pushed himself to go faster. 

“We’re almost there, hold on…!”

“Hold on….”

Darkness overtook you.

Part 8

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel @blackrockshooter780 @l-n-g-t @peachesdabunny @silverwatergalaxy @willy-the-witch @caeliasaida @veri-varily @xnorthstar3x @leonardo-dabitchy @sh1ga-to3s

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

[rc-catalog]

It’s that time again—our Creator Of The Month celebration is back, and this month’s spotlight is glowing brighter than ever!

Please join us in welcoming the endlessly talented Lola, @malbontesmrs, to the COTM hall of fame! 💗

From Procreate to her keyboard, Lola is a true architect of imagination—and we’re thrilled to celebrate her work all month long! To help you get to know the magic behind the masterpieces, we’ve put together a short interview where she shares her inspirations, her process, and more! 🌸

💬 1) INTRODUCE YOURSELF! 

Hi, I’m Lola. And to be honest, I’m terribly boring.

💬 2) WHEN AND HOW DID YOU FIRST DISCOVER ROMANCE CLUB! What drew you in, and what made you stay? Were there any particular characters, stories, or moments that left a mark on you?

I discovered RC in April 2021, and played enough that when I re-downloaded the app after deleting it, I still had a profile. I actually more or less forgot about it, HS1 JUST finished fully releasing, and I remember reading up to where Vicky gave Bont the food from the school kitchens at least. I think I may have deleted the app shortly after that because of the CY Alexander scene . It’s also entirely possible that I just got too busy and didn’t put it on my new phone. When I redownloaded it in 2023, it was because an acquaintance suggested it, but even then I barely touched it until HS2 started releasing (though I did love SoS and probably played it like 3-4 times before then). I didn’t remember playing HS1 at all until after I played it again, so when I started HS2, and encountered Malbonte and Lucifer for the first time, all I could think was “omg, how could anyone like these jerks”. …anyway, that’s my husband and my other husband now, so I guess I figured that out. I guess all that is to say Alice’s HS brought me, kept me, and continues to keep me on this app.

💬 3) HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN CREATING? Can be both RC related and in general! What first sparked your passion for it?

I’ve been creating (in general) for a long time. I won’t say how long, but I’m probably older than most of those who know me realize 😂. But for RC, I only started in early 2024. I also only somewhat recently started working with digital painting (late 2023). I’ve been writing since forever, but I only recently started publicly posting my work as well. I’m generally not very social 😅

💬 4) DO YOU REMEMBER YOUR FIRST EVER CREATION? Again, can be RC related or in general! What was it, how did it feel to bring it to life, and looking back now, how do you feel about it?

The first creative thing I did for RC was the first three chapters of my long fic, Lux in Tenebris. I’ll talk about it in question 7 though, because I don’t want to get too repetitive. The first piece of art I posted in the RC fandom was a picture of Bont that I posted from an old account. I loved, and still love that piece. It was the first time I moved out of a more cartoony style, and inspired the HS2 portrait series I ended up doing later. link

💬 5) DO YOU HAVE ANY RITUALS OR HABITS WHEN YOU CREATE? A playlist you always put on, a time of day you prefer, snacks or specific tools/software?

I’m still working on my HS long fics, and I have a playlist I use for those (mostly Rok Nardin songs because they feel very applicable and they’re instrumental, so random words I’m hearing don’t end up in my writing). I write on my iPad with the keyboard attachment because I’m more likely to carry it around than a laptop. I use Word (bleh) because I need it for work anyway, but Word isn’t really friendly for HTML markup and that’s how I write my fics, so I have been considering other options (Rok Nardin Spotify playlist for those who might be curious). I also keep my fics in the cloud so I can access them on my phone in case inspiration hits while I’m at the doctor’s office or something. I save each chapter as an individual file, and for these fics I’ve been posting them as I write them. If I ever do another series like this again though, I may consider a different course of action because it does get a little stressful when writers block hits. My fics are long, and I try to post chapters every week or two, so I’m writing a looooot these days. If I have writer’s block (which has been happening more and more lately), I use different strategies. My bestie isn’t a RC fan, but she’s happy to let me run thoughts by her (which has come to some entertaining results from time to time). Sometimes I’ll just put on that same Rok Nardin playlist I use when writing and go for a walk, because it helps keep me in the mind of it so I can brainstorm. If that doesn’t work… I step away. Close my iPad and don’t even think about it for a bit, or move onto a drawing for a while. For art: No rituals, no things I do every time. I draw when the inspiration hits, and draw until I’m bored of drawing 😂. I have surprisingly very few abandoned WIPs despite this though. I use Procreate, iPad and Apple Pencil. Sometimes I listen to audiobooks while drawing. Sometimes I don’t. Drawing is a very, very casual thing I do. Fun fact: most of my art only uses two brushes and a heck-ton of smudging. Any additional brushes are stamps. I wish I could tell you which brushes they are, but “Brush 4” probably doesn’t help 🤷🏼‍♀️

💬 6) IS THERE A PIECE OF ADVICE YOU WOULD GIVE TO YOUR YOUNGER CREATIVE SELF? Or readers in general?

1000% it’s that practice makes perfect. My art feels like a huge testament to that statement because (I think anyway) you can see the major improvements I’ve made in the last year alone. I have one CG that I like to practice new techniques by redrawing it, and I keep them in a row in my procreate folder so I can see the progression and my own improvement. It helps with motivation, but I find it also helps because I can take things I like from different versions to incorporate them into my style. I picked up a lot of technical skills and techniques by doing that. As for writing, I know it’s the most cliché advice ever, but write for yourself. Write what you want to read; chances are there’s someone else who wants to too. The nice thing about doing that, is that you can do whatever you want. And for both, don’t value your work based on its engagement. That was a tough lesson for me to learn, especially with my art, which hasn’t been getting very much engagement at all these days, and my new fic, which isn’t getting nearly as much in the way of comments as Lux in Tenebris did. What I’ve found though, is that every time I start to get bummed about the lack of engagement on BO&BR, someone pops up out of nowhere to tell me they’ve loved my stories and have been reading them for a while. The point is, just because I’m not seeing engagement, doesn’t mean it’s not there; sometimes people just don’t know what to say, sometimes they’re too shy to say anything, sometimes they mean to say something and it slips their minds. Either way, if you work on something you love, it doesn’t matter what other people think.

💬 7) CHOOSE 3-5 OF YOUR FAVOURITE WORKS AND RAMBLE AWAY! We want all the behind-the-scenes thoughts: What do these pieces mean to you? What inspired them? Were there any struggles you faced while creating them? What emotions or memories are tied to them now?

Lux in Tenebris – Malbonte x MC HS1 (long) fanfiction (Posted on AO3, rated E for occasional smut and canon-typical descriptions of violence / death)

I chose this one first for a reason, because it is by far the most meaningful project I’ve ever done (and to be honest, hopefully the most meaningful I’ll ever do). Lux in Tenebris is my entire 2024; I started it in January, and finished it in December— it’s over 255,000 words (1100 pages). I was (am? but it’s much better managed now) very sick in 2024, and I ended up in the hospital for over a month. Lux was my main project through the year, and it helped me get through the harder times; it is a tangible representation of my struggles that year. I love Lux, and I hope I always will. I know it’s not perfect, there were a lot of chapters I wrote when I was extremely unwell and could definitely use some editing, but I’m not perfect either. It was the first long fic that I ever fully completed, and it was the first project I’ve ever done that I legitimately made for myself and my own enjoyment; other people liking it was a very unexpected, and pleasant, bonus. (Though admittedly, I did at one point think how nice it would be if a non-Malbonte fan read it and became a Malbonte fan 😂. That didn’t happen to my knowledge, but I had a non-HS1 fan read it and enthusiastically love it, so I’m counting that 😄). It also wasn’t the story I planned in the beginning (I completely changed course around chapter 3, then totally committed to that change by chapter 7). I’m happy with the direction it took though. I poured my whole life into that fic, and I’m still working on the sequel. So yeah, it’s pretty important to me. I loved writing it, I love reading it, and I love talking about it. This fic is my baby.

2. The HS2 LI series

Similar to Lux in Tenebris, I worked on these portraits to distract me from being sick, and I wanted to work with a bit more variety of people. HS2 is (probably obviously) my favourite story on the app, and I wanted to honour it somehow, I guess. I actually want to do the series over, because I feel like I’ve learned a lot of new techniques and improved my art since then, but we’ll see. I have to finish the ABH series first. I actually find Dino and Lucifer to be two of the most difficult people I’ve drawn to get “right”, and those two portraits took the longest by quite a bit to do (Luci with his tattoos especially. Tbh, the more I look at it, the more I reeeeeally want to redo War and Astaroth too…) Anyway, yeah, it was a fun project that I did because I love HS2, and it was a lot of fun to work on. Of course with practice, as I’ve improved, I can see a lot more issues with these pictures than I could when I did them, but I’ll always love the project itself because it was a nice distraction from the things going on at the time. Dino / Lucifer / Mimi / Astaroth / War / Hunger / Malbonte

3. Black Obelisks & Blood Roses (Malbonte x MC HS2 fanfiction) – in progress sequel to Lux in Tenebris (Posted on AO3, rated E for occasional smut and canon-typical descriptions of violence / death)

I debated choosing this, but decided I can’t promote Lux without promoting the sequel I’m currently writing, Black Obelisks & Blood Roses. It’s only about 1/3 of the way done, but it’s already over 164,000 words (650 pages). I’m actively updating at least twice a month, but often more than that (and never less). I grieved Lux in Tenebris when it was finished. It literally felt like a piece of me died or something. I had started planning BO&BR very early into writing Lux, so I knew I was going to write a sequel, but I had every intention of taking a month or two between the two. I did not. I started this one earlier than I planned because I was so sad about finishing Lux that I had to. It’s been a lot more of a struggle to write, especially lately. I’ve got a lot going on in my life, and honestly, the subject matter is kind of a bummer sometimes. I’m only JUST coming out of Season 1 now in the fic. BUT, I still love writing it, and going back to my little world with Malbonte and Antigone. I just revealed my first major divergence from canon (and not-so-secret crossover), and I’m simultaneously nervous and excited. I’ve been planning this for months and I’m kind of freaking out that it’s already here. Anyway, my fics take a lot more of my time, so I tend to have a lot more feelings around them. I plot and plan constantly, readjust and rework plans as needed. Even still, I go with the flow while I write, and sometimes things happen that even I didn’t expect but they feel right, so it becomes part of the story. That’s my favourite part to be honest, when I write something and I’m like “damn, that wasn’t supposed to happen yet but it’s SO GOOD here”.

4. Raphael Portrait

I’m two characters (David and 🥰Cassiel🥰) away from finishing the ABH LI portrait series, but Raphael is the latest art piece I’ve completed, and definitely in my top 3 best pieces ever, I think (it could be #1, but I’m biased so clearly my best piece is Malbonte 😂). I’ve started experimenting more with open mouth smiles, which has been fun. I love Raphael’s smile, it’s just… ugh, so cute. I started working on pictures recently where I do the parts I don’t enjoy doing first, so that I don’t just kinda say “eh, it’s done enough”, aaaaand I’m pretty happy with that decision looking at this final piece. I’m really happy with how he turned out (especially his hair, haha and the light fixture in the background 😅). Unfortunately I’ve also been finding him a bit intimidating because I feel like he’s pushed the bar up. I haven’t even started the next portrait in the series (though I probably will the second I put this down because I’m suddenly feeling inspired) (update: I did in fact start it, but I’m still feeling intimidated by Raphael, so it didn’t get done by time of writing 😅).

5. Malbonte Portrait, CG Redraw

Last one! I wasn’t going to add this piece, but I think I’d be remiss if I didn’t because this is my practice CG! I have many, many, versions of this CG in my procreate folder, because I use it to practice, play with brushes, and teach myself new techniques. I keep them in a row at the bottom of my folder so I can see my progress, and refer back to things I like and don’t like about the ones I’ve done. This one is my favourite so far. I love Malbonte, so I’m always happy to complete Malbonte fan art. I think when practicing, especially if you’re going to do the same drawing over and over again like I do, it’s important to draw something that you enjoy doing. This CG is one of my favourites, and it’s a fantastic face-front portrait for practicing faces. I love it.

A huge thank you to everyone who took the time to read Lola's feature and celebrate her incredible work with us! And of course, thank you to all the amazing creators who submitted this month—we’re constantly in awe of your talent and passion.

Here’s to you, Lola—you paint stories we can’t stop reading and write pictures we can’t stop staring at. Congratulations, and thank you for sharing your gift with us! 🩷

[bookished]

Staying motivated and continuing to work on your story, even when you're not actively writing, can be challenging but essential for your creative process. Here are some tips to help you stay engaged with your story:

Remember Your Why: Reflect on why you started writing this story in the first place. Reconnect with your passion and purpose.

Set Clear Goals: Define specific goals and milestones for your story. Knowing where you're headed and what you want to achieve can help maintain your motivation.

Visualize Your Story: Create visual aids like character mood boards or plot diagrams. Visualizing your story can make it feel more real and inspire creativity.

Create Character Playlists: Develop playlists of songs that evoke the emotions and personalities of your characters. Listening to these playlists can immerse you in your story world.

Explore Backstories: Dive into your characters' pasts. Writing short stories or character profiles can deepen your understanding of their motivations and add depth to your narrative.

Experiment with Prompts: Use writing prompts unrelated to your story to keep your creativity flowing. You might stumble upon ideas that you can incorporate into your narrative.

Write Out of Order: Don't feel constrained to write your story sequentially. If you're excited about a particular scene or chapter, go ahead and write it. You can connect the pieces later.

Keep an Idea File: Maintain a digital or physical file where you store story ideas, quotes, and images that inspire you. Reviewing these can reignite your creativity.

Write Letters from Characters: Compose letters or journal entries from the perspective of your characters. It can help you explore their voices and viewpoints.

Reward Creativity: Treat yourself when you achieve creative breakthroughs. Acknowledging your achievements can reinforce your dedication to your story.

Remember that every writer's journey is unique, so don't be discouraged by occasional dips in motivation. Embrace these strategies and tailor them to fit your writing style and preferences. Most importantly, enjoy the process of storytelling, and your enthusiasm will naturally shine through in your work.

Did you find this useful? Please, consider sending me feedback or buying me a coffee. If you would like to request something (either advice or a piece of a story) for me to write it, go and message me. Also, if you'd like, you can check my masterlist. Happy writing!

[1americanconservative]

John Albillar

poSentsrdou106f2alblty98cchFmcf1094hu8 ai868hh318m6r21acrfe7  · 

A lawyer, Tom Renz, who actually read Trump's DOGE Executive Order and, expecting some illegal power grab, found it to be airtight. Turns out Trump and Musk didn't create anything. Obama did.

Obama created United States Digital Service (USDS) in 2014. It was meant as a bureaucratic patch job to fix the Obamacare website meltdown.

Fast forward to 2025. Trump rebrands it DOGE (United States DOGE Service). Keeps the acronym, keeps the funding, but gives it a whole new mission: Find the Receipts

Legally untouchable because it was already fully funded and operational. Trump invokes 5 USC 3161, which allows him to create temporary hiring authorities. DOGE teams get embedded inside every single federal agency. Each team consists of a lawyer, HR rep, a zoomer nerd, and an investigator. They report to DOGE, not the agency they're embedded in.

But wait, there's more! Trump invokes 44 USC Chapter 35, which governs federal IT and cybersecurity oversight. Since USDS was originally an IT oversight body, DOGE now has full access to all federal data systems. Yes, that’s right. All of them.

His executive order is written to block legal challenges. Includes language that overrides conflicting executive orders. Orders every agency to comply. Refusal means they violate presidential authority.

Congress can't defund it because it's not a new program, just a repurposed one. DOJ can't sue for overreach because Trump used existing laws exactly as written. Democrats trying to file legal challenges run into standing issues because DOGE operates within existing frameworks.

Obama literally built the perfect Administrative (read: Deep State) IT backdoor.

Trump and Musk just hacked the system and took the admin controls. Musk now has legal oversight of every major agency's internal systems. The Administrative State can't stop it without rewriting multiple federal laws.

They legally outplayed the system and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

Obama created DOGE

[deepestdelulu]

How to study like Paris Geller (detailed)

Create a "War Room" Study Space: Transform your study area into a command center. Fill a wall with whiteboards, calendars, and progress charts for each subject. Use different colored sticky notes for key topics and goals. This not only helps you stay organized, but also visually aligns you with your objectives.

Keep an Intensive Study Journal: Paris tracks her progress closely, and you could do the same with a daily study journal. Write down which topics you covered, how challenging they were, your energy levels, and what you’ll do to improve tomorrow. Review this journal weekly to track your progress and adjust your strategies.

Set "Record Times" for Difficult Topics: Paris loves challenging herself, so take the hardest topics and set time limits to master them. For example, "I’ll learn this chapter’s theory in two hours." Make it a personal “challenge” and track your record times. This gives you a sense of urgency and helps you progress quickly without getting stuck.

Find a Friendly Rival: Find a friend or classmate willing to “compete” with you, like Paris did with Rory. You can have “knowledge battles” where you race to see who can answer more questions correctly in less time. This builds confidence in your abilities and keeps you motivated.

Have Themed Study Nights: When you need a super-focused study session, try a “themed night.” For instance, if you’re studying history, play music from that era, surround yourself with related books, or even watch a short historical film before you start. This immersive approach can make studying feel more engaging.

Boot Camp-Style Q&A Training: Arrange “training” sessions where friends or family ask you rapid-fire questions on a topic while you try to answer at top speed. Paris would love this method to sharpen her mental agility and ensure she could think fast in oral exams or high-pressure situations.

Build a "Power Library" of Master Notes: Gather your best notes, summaries, and guides for each subject into a “power library” notebook or digital file. This should be your go-to resource, filled with diagrams, formulas, and key explanations. Keep it organized and up-to-date; having this will make you feel much more prepared and confident.

Explain and Analyze as if You’re Teaching: Paris masters topics by explaining them to others. After studying a topic, sit in front of a mirror or record yourself on video, explaining it out loud as if you’re teaching it. This teaching “rehearsal” reinforces your understanding and helps identify areas that need review.

Create a "Focus Code": Design your own unique focus ritual—maybe setting up specific objects on your desk or putting on noise-canceling headphones to help you get into “study mode.” This repeated ritual lets you focus quickly and trains your brain to associate these actions with peak productivity.

Schedule Mini-Tests and Mock Exams: Be your own teacher, like Paris, and plan mini-tests for each topic. These could be questions from books, articles, or even ones you make up yourself—just answer them as if they were a real exam. This prepares you for actual tests and reduces any exam-related anxiety.

I hope this helps, the key of studying is to romanticise it, at the end of the day you have to like it to make it productive. I you have more suggestions don´t even hesitate and write it down in the comments, I´m sure we can all help each other <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[mynametido]

My Complete High School Transcript

This was for a new reality I created a bit ago that was sort of going to be "revenge", as I put it, before I finally permashift to my desired reality. But now that I'm not feral anymore, I thought it'd be best to not let the reality go completely to waste. A homage if you will. Context: I used to be a gifted child with "so much potential". Therefore, in honor of this deep-seated desire for academic validation here were going to be my unofficial overqualified high school years in a nutshell.

As @hrrtshape said it best, "I'll permashift when it stops feeling like a betrayal," but, in retrospect, shifting here would have felt more like living long enough to see myself become the villain.

[Random Acting Stuff]

>>-----☆------->

Played Jazmine Dubois from Boondocks (2007 - 2016)

Season 4 of Stranger Things is released - (I play Eleven) (2022)

Last of Us Show - (I play Ellie) (2023)

Jurassic World: Dominion - (I play young Charlotte Lockwood) (2023)

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse is released - (I play Gwen Stacy) (2024)

Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes is released - (I play Mae) (2024)

(2021) [ Summer Before]

01. Founder of non-profit volunteering organization: with 15,000+ hours of volunteer work before highschool graduation

02. Successful etsy business (I sell crochet/sewing patterns)

03. Started 3 Youtube channels

☆ Food

☆ Comprehensive Input for English Learners

☆ Book Club

| Year 1 (2021 - 2022)

01. Founder of multimedia club (club for people with multiple interests)

02. Co-host of school podcast

03. President of Book Club

04. Monthly Fundraising Livestreams: minimum of $120,000 a year collected in total

05. Gold medal at 2021 Winter Olympics (figure skating) + world record for highest score

06. Successful online vegan meal kit service (Started)

☆ Online cookbook & vegan news blog // political art (Year 1)

☆ Vegan snack box (so people can try new vegan snacks) (Year 1)

+ Vegan meal kit (like BlueApron, HomeChef, etc.) (Year 2)

☆ An barcode scanner app (“is this vegan” type deal) (Year 2)

☆ Getting Plants Subsidized (Year 3)

☆ Vegan grocery stores (Year 4)

☆ Vegan Vending machine (Year 4)

07. Started and am the head of Youtube channel for my highschool

| Year 2 (2022 - 2023)

01. CPR & First Aid Certification

02. Ham Radio License

03. FEMA (crisis management) Cert

04.Proficient in ASL

05. Screenwriting club

06. Editor of school paper

07. Won New York Marathon

08. Co-chair of the vegan extension of the “meals on wheels” organization (I organize everything; the dates, recipes, etc, and my partner makes them happen)

09. Founder of Community Cabinet (a local organization that handles stuff like)

☆ Organizing a local cleanup or sustainability campaign.

☆ Advocating for a cause (e.g., write op-eds, attend town halls).

☆ Starting a community garden or environmental initiative.

☆ Hosting workshops or awareness events (e.g., mental health, STEM for girls).

☆ Creating care packages for underserved communities.

☆ Helping seniors with tech or digital literacy.

☆ Translating documents or volunteering with immigrant services.

☆ Joining or starting a peer mediation/conflict resolution group.

☆ Participating in civic engagement (e.g., work with local government or campaigns).

☆ Launch a global initiative with chapters in multiple schools or countries.

☆ A multilingual journal publication highlighting global teen voices (I’ve written a couple for our organization)

☆ Informational adulting course (how to file taxes, how to apostille/notarize, how to reconcile a checking account, etc.)

(and more…)

| Year 3 (2023 - 2024)

01. Perfect SAT

02. Perfect Toefl (English), Topik (Korean), Dele (Spanish), Torfl (Russian), and Delf (French) scores

03. Ted x leadership workshop for kids

04. Presidential Scholar

05. 6-week New York Times Editor Assistant Internship

06. Huge Summer Book Tour

07. NHS

08. 8-week Head of Student Research Project at Nasa

09. Won the John Locke Essay Competition

| Year 4 (2024 - 2025)

01. 4.0 gpa (not including the weighted stuff the school throws in)

02. Varsity & Team Captain of: [ in school extracurriculars ]

☆ Basketball team (4 years)

☆ Swim team (3 years)

☆ Track and Field (4 years)

|| Extra sports: [ in and out of school ecs ]

☆ Football (1 year)

☆ Golf (1 year)

☆ Figure skating (5 years)

☆ Rock Climbing (6 years)

☆ Ballet (8 years; varsity)

03. Student Council - Class President

04. Valedictorian

05. Successful publishing company: With 44 books self-published by yours truly before graduation

06. Accelerated Reader Award (450+ books read; all time most books read in my state)

07. A Wikipedia page was made of me by an established user

I was starting to get to the "single-handedly curing cancer," part, but then I realized that just putting down everything on paper was cathartic enough. I'll get my Rory Gilmore moment rest assured, it just won't be a desperate attempt to mourn the teenage dream I never had, when I do...

Though since I'm 18, college is FULLY on the table AHAJSVSSVAVHASVH. Y'all thought this was a letter of resignation or something. I'm just getting started.

[lovekabaneri]

Snippets from Earth - Lost Light and Rodimus chapter

Inspired by @keferon TF Mecha AU. The diffrernt characters remember things from the past, even if some don't quite realize what it means... yet.

AO3: Link

Recalling…

Memory file #GA78292- DS33892QA

“Good morning~ crew of this wonderful, badass vessel! This is your captain speaking!” a voice blared throughout the whole ship “The weather is as great as it can be in the unforgiving vacuum of space (deep voice). But do expect a light drizzle in about 20 breems.”

The speaker was a fiery-looking mech with red, orange and yellow plating and an EM field that was so bright it looked like a big glowing spot. It was his captain – Rodimus Prime.

{If a ‘light drizzle’ for you is a space dust storm, then yes.} – Lost Light sent back to his captain.

The titan spaceship was also sending a feeling of *happy-joy-amusement-mischief* over his bond with the fiery prime. After all, being a titan came with the perk of being able to observe his own halls, so he saw a few mechs jump up from their recharge and fall off their berths.

“Frag it, Rodimus! How many times are you going to do that?! Almost made me spill my energon cube all over the console.”

“Eh, don’t worry ‘bout it so much, Doc! It’s fine~ Just a bit of fun to put some pep in those mechs’ step.” – Rodimus grinned and lounged in his captain chair, overlooking the ship’s control room.

“That might be so…” the medic grumbled “But you are no longer a youngling, you’ve been the captain of the Lost Light and a Prime for many vorns now, you have to start taking things more seriously, kid!”

“Haha! Why? Where’s the fun in that? We all know that if nothing spices up these long-aft voyages, we’d all offline from boredom.”

“Better boredom than some accident or one of your rusty-processored ideas!” the medic shot back “Ugh, Primus, I am getting too old for this.”

 “Come on, Doc! You’re still here an’ kicking aft! It is too early to speak like that. I mean- Who will be here, grumbling and throwing wrenches at my helm when I get a bit too reckless.” Rodimus shook his helm but then straightened up “I don’t really know what I would have been doing without ya. Without any one of you. When the council called me mad, delusional and glitched… You stood beside me an’ helped me achieve all this! To lead Cybertron’s age of Space exploration. To not be stuck in Iacon doing ‘Proper Prime’ stuff… Thanks.”

Rodimus patted one of Lost Light’s control panels and smiled at the mechs around him. The ship titan sent *happy-grateful-grateful* through their link. The old medic simply scoffed and waved a servo, returning to work all while grumbling to himself about the situation being too sappy for him.

“Hah! Never change, old friend. Never change.” – Roddy shook his helm and stood up.

The few other mechs in the control room stopped and looked at their captain.

“Alright, mechs!” Rodimus grinned widely “Get into ger and let’s get moving! Full speed ahead! Our next stop- Back to CYBERTRON!!!” – he pointed a digit straight ahead.

The other mechs cheered, a few “Aye-aye captains” and “Roger that!” were thrown around as the crew of the Lost Light went to work. The titan himself buzzed with excitement, *happy-joy-joy-mischievous* was shared with Rodimus over their bond. It was the only warning the Prime got before the ship’s thrusters suddenly accelerated. A few crewmembers almost lost their balance and the old medic started shouting and waving a fist at the ship’s ceiling. All Rodimus did was brace one servo on his captain’s chair and laugh.

Lost Light would not replace this for anything in the whole universe. He loved all mechs of this crew, he loved his cityspeaker- his Captain too. Flying through the stars with them, discovering new worlds and having fun- it was the best thing ever!

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Memory file #SA34501- C55503DA

Lost Light was different… everyone told him so since the day he first came online. He was a Titan – a giant mech created by Cybertron itself, “Sparked by the will of Primus himself” they said, like many of his kind supposedly were. Truth be told, he did not remember any of that nor did he believe their words.

He was smaller than most of his fellow titans. He was not like Metroplex – eager to please and content living out his existence in one territory. He was not like Navitas – a ship specialized for colonizing other worlds. He was… himself.

Lost Light, being a spaceship, was often tasked ferrying mechs and cargo around Cybertron and the nearby colonies, but only just so he had something to do – to have a purpose. He did not feel compelled to listen to any of his appointed ‘cityspeakers’ (they were just his minders, just like him, filling a position and nothing more) and would even sometimes wander off into the uninhabited areas of Cybertron, to the chagrin of his handlers.

It just never clicked for him, he wanted something more than the mindless toiling every day, he KNEW there was something more out there for him! Each night he looked up to the stars, each time he carried cargo through space, he could feel it in his core. He felt like he could almost reach it- only for it to slip from between his digits.

The many cycles of his existence were all the same and he thought they would be like so, until HE appeared.

……………….

Lost Light had been on a standby, lounging around in his root mode, rolling around a boulder. Truth be told, he was bored out of his processor. He had landed on one of the many space docks to deliver cargo and then wandered off to the side and out of the way of traffic while he awaited his next assignment.

Some of the dockworkers were looking at him cautiously, probably not used to a titan casually lounging around and idling in root mode – yet another thing about him that was odd. He ignored them and the noise around, long used to the buzz of a busy space dock, but then… something odd happened.

Lost Light was surprised when a very BRIGHT blip of an EM field vaulted over one of the fences and started running by the outer edge of the docks. It was… really bright and big… Not big like his or his fellow titans’ but way too big for an ordinary bot. It was like a small ball of plasma that was moving around.

His optics focused on the source of said EM field and saw a mech painted in brilliant reds, oranges and yellows, his paint the same vibrant shade as his EM field. Saif mech looked like they were sneaking around or running from something, with the way they were trying to be sneaky and constantly looking around. Then, as if feeling they were being watched, the mech stopped and looked up.

Their optics MET-!!!

The fiery mech’s intake dropped open and he stared at Lost Light with a shocked expression. Then, he grinned and his EM field became even brighter than before! Lost Light had no idea an ordinary mech could produce such a strong EM field, enough to look like a beacon to the titan in the sea of gray and dull blue buzz.

Lost Light felt compelled to go closer, to get a better look- And by the looks of it, the red mech had the same idea, as he bolted for the titan at max speed.

“Whoah! You look so cool! You are a titan, right?!” red was shouting and buzzing with energy, just like his EM field was “I have never seen a titan like you – like out in the open! They are all usually dormant or just- hubs or something!” – he gestured around with his servos.

Lost Light couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics, the sound coming out more like a series of rumbles to the much smaller mech. So, to have a better look, Lost Light laid down on his front and lowered his helm so it was almost touching the ground. Finally! They were almost at optic level.

“Whoah! You are so huge! Even your faceplate is taller than me!” the fiery mech looked up and rose to the tips of his pedes “Like here… aalmost~!” – he stretched a servo up and then slapped Lost Light’s nose bridge.

Immediately, Lost Light pulled back like a startled cybercat – he had never been slapped on the faceplate before, even if he barely felt it, it was startling. The smaller bot was not only braver than most, but also seemingly did not care about his status as a titan.

“Oh, sorry! Didn’t mean to startle ya, just wanted to see how-.”

Red and blue light flashed in the distance and there was the sound of sirens approaching.

“Scrap! The coppers came sooner than I thought!” the mech cursed, then looked up “Uh… hey, big guy, so I am kinda, sorta trying to hide here and I was wonderin’ if you could allow me to lay low here with you until they move on???” – he sheepishly asked the titan, twiddling his digits and grinned.

‘This is going to be hilarious!’ – was the first though that came to Lost Light.

The audacity of this little mech, asking him to help hide from the law- he couldn’t contain his own feelings in any longer and sent a wave of *amusement-mischief* out, not that the little bot could understand him. Still, he laid down low and shifted his panels so that the mech could easily enter his interior.

“O-oh! Thanks a lot, big guy!” – red gave a thumbs up and quickly scampered inside.

The two partners in crime waited, Lost Light trying to act casual and yet not move too much around as to not jostle his passenger too much. Then he saw a few enforcers pull in the docks.

‘Hopefully my EM field will be enough to mask his.’ – Lost Light thought.

He might not know what the enforcers wanted with his new red pal, nor did he care why he was running from the law. Still he did shift his interior some more, coaxing the smaller mech closer to his spark chamber.

The enforcers spoke with the workers and passengers, yet they barely glanced at Lost Light before moving on, not even bothering to try and question the idle titan.

‘Uh- rude!’ – he thought but internally he was barely hiding a grin.

When they were finally gone, Lost Light shifted once more and dumped his passenger out.

“Ooof! Yep… perfect landing.” The red mech groaned on the ground “Thanks, big guy! You really saved my aft back there! My name is Rodimus but you can call me Roddy! I much prefer that name. Rodimus just sounds so… bleh~!” – he grimaced like he was about to purge.

Lost Light laughed at his antics, the titan’s field sending waves of *joy-amused-fun* which were mirrored by the smaller mech with similar intensity. This was… refreshing. Usually, the smaller mechs were too intimidated by his size or could not even respond to his EM field, only his fellow titans could match him in kind and they were more often than not uninterested in interactions just for the fun of it. Having someone to casually bounce EM fields around with felt nice.

“So… What’s your name big guy? It’s appropriate I know the name of the mech that saved my aft from having to sit in the station until they pick me up.” – Roddy asked.

 ‘Well, not like you’ll be able to understand it…’ – Lost Light though as he leaned even closer.

Then, the titan smiled and lightly poked Roddy’s chassis with the tip of his index digit, chuckling to himself.

{They call me Lost Light.} the titans rumbled, his voice low {The pleasure is mine, Roddy.} – and then grinned.

Rodimus could feel the titan’s rumble run through him and his chassis was being gently booped by a giant finger. He placed a servo on the titan’s finger and patted it.

*Bzzzt!!!

A spark of electricity ran between the two and then, something suddenly clicked inside Lost Light’s processor.

“Lost Light, huh? Pretty badass name, if I have to say so myself.” Roddy braced his chin in one servo “It sounds like the name of some real special spaceship, if I can say so…”

‘He is the one.’ – Lost Light stared blankly as the smaller mech chattered.

There was no doubt within the titan at that moment. Rodimus was the one for him, the fiery mech was the only one of many, many attempts to establish connection with Lost Light that worked. The fact that he could understand Lost Light right off the bat was proof enough that Roddy was the perfect one to be his Cityspeaker. But then… what if he did not accept Lost Light? What if the responsibility was too much and his new friend got scared?!

“So… I have ta go now. Got a pretty nice spot waiting for me at Carborator valley for the race. Just don’t tell anyone, since it is not exactly permitted, OK?” – Roddy winked and then moved to leave.

{No! W-Wait!}

Lost Light moved without even thinking, he did not want Rodimus to leave just yet! There was so much he wanted to tell him, to talk about-

“Hm? What? Don’t tell me you are also interested in the race?” Roddy raised an optic ridge “Wanna come with me?”

{E-eh? You are inviting me? But I- can’t go there.} – Lost Light looked down.

“Why not? The race is outside, in the middle of nowhere, so I doubt you’d have problem with small spaces or ceilings. So, what do you say? Do you want to join me in watching? I could treat you to a drink- well… maybe half a drink with how big you are.”

There was only a bit of hesitation, as Lost Light looked back at the docks, where his handlers still were, and decided to say screw it all. He was going to that race! Wherever the Pit it was!

{To the Pit with it! Let’s go!} he offered an open servo to Roddy {Hop on and lead the way!}

“Aww! Sweet! I am riding a titan!” Roddy cheered and buzzed with excitement “Full speed ahead! Next stop- the Valley race!” – he pointed forward.

Lost Ligh stood up to his full height and moved in the direction Rodimus was pointing at. There might have been a few distressed workers shouting in the distance but the titan did not care as he easily stepped over the fence.

(“Prime steals a titan!” – that was the biggest headline that came out a few days later:

In a shocking turn of events, Rodimus Prime [one of the youngest chosen Primes in Cybertron’s history] disappeared from his quarters from the Iacon tower just before his meeting with the Council. The enforcers initially suspected a case of kidnapping or some other plot against the current youngest Prime. The towers were in disarray and panic over the missing Prime. Imagine everyone’s surprise when Rodimus prime was caught on several videos and pictures not even a full cycle later, seen enjoying one of the illegal races through Carborator valley, cheering from the top of a titan.

Yes, you heard that right – a titan! The Lost Light went missing the same day as Rodimus Prime. Apparently, according to witnesses and camera footage, the young Prime convinced the titan to leave their post and go joyriding with him through the wasteland and watch the illegal race! Cityspeaker Quan-)

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Memory file #GA113992- UT40192QC

“We’re under-zzzzzzz-k! All personnel to-zzzz!”

*BOOOM~!!!

Something hit Lost Light’s side once more, the explosion painful and shaking his frame. They were under attack!

“We can’t possibly hold them back captain! There’s more than 5 Quintesson ships-zzzz!”

It was pure chaos. They were under attack. They were ambushed. This part of the galaxy was supposed to be free! The Quints had been chased from this quadrant! Where was the captain?!

“Mechs, prepare for evasive maneuvers! We’ll attempt to evade them through-zzzzzz!” – Rodimus, the bright light, commanded.

“Aye, aye!” – their crew said.

“You ready for this, partner? This will be a rough one.” – Roddy patted his console.

{Gh!} he was shot at once more {Yes, this is nothing!}

“Alright, then! Prepare for a jump!” – Roddy’s voice boomed over the sounds of fire and alarms.

………………………………..

Everything was shaking, there was fire! Dead! There was a hull breach- crewmembers lost in space- hall doors 5-M through 33-M sealed to prevent further decompression- Where was the rest of the crew- the enemies-

*Creak~ Clang! BANG!

Something fell, an explosion, shouting! Failure to engage-

“C-cough- damn, got something lodged in my vent.” – Rodimus groaned as he hobbled towards his chair.

The control room was in disarray, cables, broken pipes, scorch marks and burnt Quintesson remains, courtesy of Rodimus’ flamethrowers. The others were not there- where?

“Kah-! Y-you still here with me, partner? Are you-zzzzzzzz?” – Roddy almost collapsed.

Lost Light saw energon leaking from between his captain’s digits, too much leakint- need medical- med bay not responding-med bay NOT RESPOND-

“Hey, hey… stop that. We really-zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.” Rodimus chuckled bitterly “We’re all fragged! I messed up- FRAG! The quadrant was supposed to be safe and now-zzzzzzz!” – he slammed a fist on the armrest.

Lost Light was receiving so many damage and error reports that his processor was getting muddled… or was it an energon leak? He could swear he got a ping about an energon leak a while earlier, during their escape-

“-ight! LIGHT!” Roddy’s shout snapped him out of it “Are you with me, buddy?!”

Was he-? What happened? Why was the captain so frantic- WARNING! Oh, there was a small boom that shook Lost Light’s upper floors. There was a fire in the living area. T’ was danger- need to evacuate everyone…

“Come on, buddy! Speak to me!” – Rodimus was frantically tapping his console, despite all the energon seeping from his wound.

{Fire in… hull breach… engine 2 is not responding…}

The Lost Light was shaking, something hit them- again and again- they were peltered by rocks.

“Scrap! It’s an asteroid belt! Why now-?!”

{Crash eminent… the crew… evacuate immed-}

ERROR! ERROR – system boot up…

“Hold on!” Roddy was shouting, servos tightly gripping the controls “We’ll get out of this! Just hold on a little longer-!”

He will do it he- zzzzz- Something knocked into them, everything was shaking, red lights flashed through his alls.

{We’re going to crash. Evacuate immediately! Take the crew and save yourself, some of the escape pods should still be functional.} – Lost Light urged his captain.

Error! System not respond- Rebooting…

“Heh, a bit too late for that now.” Rodimus said, swaying on his pedes as he gripped the consoles “We’re going for a landing and it will be rough!”

{No! Please! Save yourself! If you stay you will-}

“I am not leaving you behind like that!” Rodimus interrupted him “We’re in this together, always! I will not abandon you, I promise you, we’re going to make it!”

ERROR-ERROR- Critical failure! Entering emergency stasis in 3 – 2 –

{No- don’t-!}

-1!

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The emergency lights flickered as the Lost Light stirred. Where were they? Where was the crew? Where was he?... It was complete darkness around him. What had happened?

Once again, he tried pulling up memory files, but his processor was not working properly. Soon, the emergency stasis was pulling him back into unconsciousness.

Just a few moments before powering down, in that space between consciousness and oblivion, Lost Light saw it- an impossibly bright, burning light, shining like the sun and radiating joy. He could almost visualize Rodimus’ usual grin.

{R-Roddy…}

And then he fell into stasis once more.

=== Swerve remembers ===

It was already getting close to a decade since Swerve first woke up on Earth. How strange it was, having lived for millennia on Cybertron, yet these few short years felt like an entire lifetime rather than just the short blink it actually was. He had once again been woken up by dreams, reminding him of his home planet and churning out all sorts of scenarios. Nostalgia weighed him down like a heavy stone.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Here he was, once again bringing work back home and working on it throughout the night. The team was currently working on making a space-worthy mech for the newest initiative of the program. They were planning to bring the fight to the Quints by launching mechs in space.

‘Not that the Quintessons are anywhere near Earth. They’re sending all their drones through a space bridge.’ – Swerve thought with a sour look.

And it was not like he could tell anyone about this information or he’d be thought of as crazy or worse – being an enemy. He did not know what was worse, because either way, he’d lose everything – a job he actually enjoyed doing, as long as you ignored Shockwave’s research and some of the more unsavory areas, he had friends too. A lot more than on Cybertron or even the Ark – Hoist and Twist, Hot Rod, Ricochet, Jazz, Tailgate, and there was even Blurr… the guy was so complicated! He acted all self-centered and like the people around him were extras but he still had his moments here and there, so Swerve no longer had that entirely negative opinion on him. Those rare glimpses he saw from the racer were quite eye-opening… If the plastic figurine on his shelf was not an obvious sign of that.

He had accumulated quite the collection of figurines throughout the years, most of them custom-built by him in his free time. There were the classics – mechs from his and different bases around the continent, some of which he helped design. A few Gundams here and there and then… there were the more… Cybertronian designs.

Swerve blushed a bit as his eyes locked on the custom figurine he made of Blurr’s mech.

‘Gah! Can’t believe I made him a Cyber-sona! So embarrassing!’ – the engineer hid his face in his hands.

Blurr’s mech shape was really recognizable, with the color scheme and thrusters but the wheels, the pede shape, the helm and head crest, the faceplate… these were all touches Swerve put himself to make it look more Cybertronian than a mech, to look like how he imagined Blurr to look if he was not human.

And next to that was a model of Hot Rod’s mech, again, made to look more like a proper Transformer.

‘Heh… Never really noticed it while making it, but kind of made it look a bit too much like one of the Primes.’ – Swerve thought with an amused look.

He remembered back before the war started; he’d watch all sorts of video records. One of his favorites was a documentary about famous individual and their achievements. From great discoveries, through scientific marvels, accidental successes and even daring adventures. It had everything! But his favorite episodes were definitely about Rodimus Prime – one of the youngest chosen Primes in history, the one before Sentinel.

Rodimus had been great, a pioneer, a brave adventurer that helped Cybertron enter its Golden Age. He and his crew, along with their ship the Lost Light led the space exploration – exploring new systems, discovering new planets and having daring adventures as they explored the Deep Space without any fear! They had gone further than any explorer ever had! And Rodimus looked like a great guy – Swerve had laughed more than once due to the Prime’s antics. He acted so unlike a Prime that if it was not in his name, most mechs would not have thought him to be one! He was one of the greatest but then- he suddenly disappeared.

The Lost Light, the entire crew, Rodimus himself – they were just gone one day. They went on another one of their runs through deep space but never came back. The ship lost and the crew presumed dead after not returning or sending a distress signal for over 3 vorns. It was quite the tragedy, he remembered, and such a shame. Who knew what might have happened if Rodimus had returned? If Sentinel had not been chosen as the next Prime?

‘Well, no use dwelling on things from the past. I have to figure out how to keep a small, squishy human from dying when launched into space.’ – Swerve shook his head and went back to his designs.

=== Day at the base ===

It was yet another day at the base, thankfully they had been no alien attacks in the past 2 weeks, so the pilots and engineers had time to properly relax for once. All mechs were in top condition and ready to be deployed, all equipment was checked and now they could even afford to have a few lazy days even! No more running drills all the time or frantically fixing broken mechs in case of an invasion. They were still ready for action but the atmosphere was more relaxed.

They were in the mess hall, having a lunch, having split into smaller groups and talking with one another. Jazz and Rico were sitting next to each other, discussing the newest song while sharing an old MP3 to listen to said music. Swerve was sitting on the same table, eating his lunch, Twist was vaguely paying attention to the ongoing conversation.

It was at that time that Hot Rod burst into the mess hall and beelined for their table.

“Guys! Guys-guys-guys!” the redhead was practically vibrating “You won’t believe what crazy thing happened last night-.”

“Shush.” Jazz put a hand in Roddy’s face “Calm down a bit, man! We barely can understand what you are sayin’.”

“Yeah, also, why weren’t you here this morning?” – Rico asked.

“Oh, that! Well, believe it or not, I was actually put on the second shift today! Also… I might have overslept a bit. Hehe…” – Hot Rod rubbed the back of his neck.

The others could only shake their heads. Soon, he was back to their table, this time with a tray of food in his hands.

“Guys! You won’t believe what a crazy dream I had last night! It was SO epic and it felt so real, like I was actually there! Almost had a heart attack when I suddenly woke up in my room! I even fell off the bed!” – Hot Rod indeed had a small red mark on his forehead.

“Is that so?” – Ricochet quirked a brow.

“Yes! I dreamed that was a spaceship captain!” – exclaimed rather loudly.

A few heads turned in his direction but they were already used to Hot Rod’s antics.

“So, there I was in this super awesome, totally badass spaceship and it was like- giant and I had a BIIIG crew with me! We were space explorers, going to different planets and fighting aliens-.” Roddy began explaining “And you were there! Well, not all of you. Jazz certainly was there, Rico too, Swerve was also hanging around… I think. Oh, ant Ratchet was also there! For some reason! Really weird seeing the old doc on a spaceship but he was still the same grouch.”

“Heh, not even crazy dreams can change Ratchet’s personality.” Jazz laughed “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him not being grumpy. It’s his default expression or something.”

“I know, right?!” Hot Rod shoved a spoonful of mash in his mouth and then continued “I have not even told you the best part yet! So, in the dream we were out there in space when this other big ship attacked us! Space pirates or somethin’, can’t remember. We had to fight and you’d think it would be some big space battle, like in Star Wars, but it wasn’t quite like it.”

Swerve listened to the young pilot’s tall tale with a fond smile.

“And so, turns out the ship could transform! It was super awesome- went like *che-che-chi-chuck* and turned into a giant robot! And I was piloting it! Just like the Ultra Samuroid from Power Samurai but it was not 5 smaller bots, just one big one. And we did this drift-like thing and wham-bam-boom!” – Roddy gestured animatedly, imitating the moves while using his spoon as a replacement weapon.

Everyone laughed at the animated show, Swerve could swear he almost could feel the excitement off of Hot Rot at that moment. Too bad all good things had to come to an end. Soon, their lunch break was over and they were back to work.

[jtargaryen18]

Under His Skin ~ Chapter 2

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.9k

Pairing: Jonathan Crane aka Scarecrow (Nolanverse Batman) x F Reader

Warnings: Stalking, sabotage, gaslighting, head games...

Jonathan escalates his quiet sabotage of Ares, manipulating patient records, schedules, and staff perception to undermine his authority without detection. As Ares begins to fray under the pressure, he grows increasingly distracted by Ares’s fiancée. He realizes his obsession has shifted: Ares is no longer the target—she is. Torn between eliminating her as a threat or drawing her in, he begins crafting a new strategy, seeing her not just as collateral… but as part of his design.

Disclaimer:The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site.

On Monday, a new nurse, fresh from orientation, was scheduled to shadow Ares during rounds. She showed up early. Too early.

Jonathan found her first. “Oh,” he said, clipboard in hand. “Rounds have been pushed to eleven. Dr. Katsaros asked me to let you know.”

She thanked him, her smile quick and tight.

He could feel her discomfort, the way her hand twitched nervously over her badge. Her body angled slightly away from him even as she stood still. It wasn't overt, but it was there. A primal instinct.

Fear, he thought, with a flicker of satisfaction. The appropriate response. That subtle unease, that instinctive recoil people carried when he got too close. It wasn’t personal, but natural. A quiet biological alarm bell, ringing under the surface. He’d spent years cultivating that edge. The way he spoke, the words he didn’t say. The way he observed without blinking too often.

It worked. It always worked. Except…

Her, his variable. Not the nurse. The fiancée. The smile-in-her-voice girl with green paint on her sleeve. He remembered the way her eyes had met his and stayed there. Curious, but unshaken. She should have felt it too, that static under the skin, the sense of wrongness people always picked up on. But she hadn’t. And that--that--wasn’t natural.

Returning to the moment, he thought of Ares, unaware the nurse arrived, waiting in the patient wing for fifteen minutes before leaving, irritated and embarrassed.

The nurse apologized to him once they found each other. Ares brushed it off, but later, Jonathan overheard him double-checking his calendar by reading it aloud. His voice was just a little too sharp.

On Tuesday, Jonathan altered a patient’s medication log by a single digit. Nothing that would cause harm, but just enough to create confusion. He submitted the paperwork for Ares’s signature, then flagged it himself a day later as a “possible discrepancy.” 

When Ares was called to clarify, he couldn’t remember authorizing the change. “I’ll look into it,” Ares said, tension easy to read in his face. “I must’ve been distracted.”

Jonathan nodded, sympathetic. “We all are, sometimes.”

He walked away as Ares rubbed his temple, confusion clouding his expression. Another clean incision with no blood.

And yet, his thoughts slid sideways.

She came by that day, as usual. Right on schedule at twelve-thirteen PM. Jonathan saw her cross the corridor, paper bag in hand. She offered a polite smile when their eyes met. But it was thin and distracted. The kind of smile people wear when their mind is already somewhere else.

She didn't stop, didn't speak. Just kept walking toward Ares’s office with her shoulders a little higher than normal, like she was bracing for something.

Jonathan stood by the file cabinet, watching her reflection in the glass. She was worried, that much was obvious. 

And the reason? Ares.

Jonathan should’ve been satisfied. He’d pushed Ares just enough off balance to spill into his personal life, and now she was feeling the ripple.

But there was something off about the way she looked past him. Like he wasn’t part of the equation. Like he was just another hallway shadow in her periphery.

She’s reacting. But not to me.

That thought settled low in his chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome. He couldn’t tell if he was pleased she was feeling it, or irritated that she hadn’t connected the feeling to him.

I orchestrated the fracture. Shouldn’t she be looking at me when it hurts?

Thursday morning was smooth. Ares arrived looking hollowed-out. His shirt wasn't pressed as usual, shadows hung behing his eyes, and yes, he used a clipped tone with the nurse who asked about the Jonas file. He kept tapping a pen against his clipboard without realizing it. Jonathan noted it.

Another clean incision. Another piece in place. 

But at twelve-thirteen PM, the hallway outside his office remained quiet. Jonathan glanced up from his notes.

Nothing.

By twelve-fifteen, the elevator still hadn’t dinged. By twelve-twenty, he found himself standing, no clear reason, and moving to the door just as another staff member passed.

No bag in her hand. No footsteps he recognized. No her. She didn’t come. She wasn't late or distracted. She wasn't there. 

He sat back down, but it wasn't the same. His pen stilled. His mind should’ve been on the afternoon reports, the next patient file he’d alter, the junior staffer he’d quietly correct.

But his thoughts circled like vultures.

Why didn’t she come? Is she sick? Busy? Angry?

No. That wasn’t the pattern.

Jonathan had watched her for weeks. She was consistent, reliable. He'd built part of the rhythm of his day around the certainty of her appearance. Not because he needed it. But because he counted on it. And now? The pattern was broken without his permission.

It shouldn't have mattered. He told himself that three times before the hour was over. But still, he opened his desk drawer and removed the envelope. Looked down at the heart-shaped pendant and broken chain resting against the bottom of it.

“You’re late,” he whispered. Then, after a beat: “Or you’re not coming back at all.”

The second thought stayed with him longer. And this time, it didn’t feel like control. It felt like lack. 

By Friday, Jonathan’s smile was the one people trusted in Arkham Asylum.

And Ares? He was still standing, still functioning. But there was a new edge in his voice when he asked for his own reports. A tightness in his smile when someone mentioned a task he didn’t remember assigning. A crease between his brows that hadn’t been there a couple of weeks ago.

Jonathan saw it all. Logged and catalogued every instance. He felt good about the progress of his plan, a perfect way to end a week. Until twelve-thirteen arrived and she didn't.

She arrived at twelve forty-seven. Thirty-four minutes behind her usual time.

Jonathan noticed the second the elevator chimed. He didn’t look up, but listened. Slower steps than normal and heavier. A pause at the security checkpoint she normally breezed through. She walked past his office without glancing inside.

No smile or polite nod. No eye contact. Just air.

She looked… off.

Her hair wasn't styled the way she normally wore it. No makeup today and boots and jeans instead of dresses with flats. Her shirt was wrinkled near the hem like she’d changed it in a hurry. She carried the paper bag, barely. More like she was holding something she forgot she picked up.

This time she didn’t wait for Ares at the door like usual. Just knocked once and stepped in.

Jonathan stared at the closed door for a long time.

She came back, but not to him.

He should’ve been relieved because the pattern was reestablishing. The interruption seemed to be resolving itself. But it wasn’t the same. She was late and different. And more than that, she didn’t look at him. Not even once.

Opening the desk drawer again, he fished out the envelope. Looked at the necklace, still curled in its place like a confession.

What changed?

Jonathan tried to focus. There were three staff meetings on his calendar. A follow-up call with administration. A patient transfer to oversee.

But all he could think about was the fact that he was practically invisible to her now. It vexed him.  

You noticed me before. Why not now?

You didn’t mean to be late.

You woke up late. The alarm didn’t go off, or maybe you’d turned it off in your sleep. You pulled on the first clean thing you could find, didn't bother with your hair. You grabbed yesterday’s paper bag lunch from the fridge, and made it halfway to Arkham before realizing you hadn’t put on makeup.

You didn’t go back. It didn’t matter. You weren’t there to look put-together. Not today.

The gallery felt different this week, like your focus was slipping, like all the colors faded. You’d snapped at one of the artists during install on Wednesday, then spent the rest of the day apologizing.

You weren't the only one having a bad week. Ares hadn't himself all week. Actually, it had been going on longer than that.

Not in a dramatic way, like he was angry or erratic. But off, in a slow, creeping, hard-to-define way that made your chest feel tight without knowing why. He forgot to call you back Monday night. Texted you 'good morning' Wednesday at 1:04 PM. Thursday, he didn’t respond to your message at all. 

You thought about not going in Friday. Just skipping the visit altogether. You'd let him catch his breath. 

But the truth was... You missed him. Or maybe you missed who he was before this week started unraveling. 

Stepping into the lobby of Arkham Asylum, you felt the building settle around you like it normally did. But it was different too, walls too thick, lighting too flat, air too still.

You passed Dr. Crane’s office without looking in, though you felt him before you saw him. There was always a cold awareness to him. It didn't feel threatening and Ares told you the man was clinical. Maybe that was it. Like he noticed everything and judged nothing.

You kept moving, knocked once on Ares’s door, and slipped inside. He smiled when he saw you. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Crazy week.”

He looked thinner somehow, drawn around the eyes. You knew he wasn't sleeping and you hadn't spent any time together this week. Whatever weight he was carrying had started to show. His smile was the same, but it felt like a mask now. One that didn’t quite fit right anymore.

“Are you okay?” you had to ask. 

He nodded. “Just tired. Too much paperwork.”

You hesitated. “I thought Dr. Crane was helping with that. Didn’t you say he’d streamlined the reporting process?”

Ares blinked, just a second too long. “Yeah,” he said. “He did. It’s just… different now. I don’t know.”

She handed him the bag. “You forgot your lunch yesterday.”

“Did I?”

He honestly didn’t remember. That wasn’t like him. Ares didn’t “I don’t know.” He solved and led. He remembered things.

You reached out and rested a hand on his arm. “Hey,” you said gently. “It’s me.”

He gave a soft smile then. He just looked so tired and defeated. And for a moment, you thought maybe he’d let the walls drop. That he’d tell you what was actually going on.

But instead, he pulled his arm away to sort through the contents of the bag you brought, like it never happened. Like you hadn’t happened.

What could you do? Your emotions were all over the place when you left his office. You could think you'd done something wrong, that maybe he was falling out of love with you. But that didn't feel right. So what was happening? He'd been Chief Administrator over Arkham for six years. He'd never had problems like this. Was the workload heavier? 

Was he ill?

You almost didn’t do it. You reached the door of Crane's office and stood there for nearly a minute, trying to come up with a reason not to knock. But logic had its limits, and you were running out of answers. Ares had been off for weeks now and it was getting worse. 

Crane was a psychology professor, his credentials exceeded Ares. He worked beside Ares every day. He had to have seen something.

So you knocked.

He looked up from his desk when you stepped in. His face was unreadable, his posture precise. Crane didn't appear surprised, like he already knew you were coming. There was something unsettling in his stillness. Maybe Ares was right. It wasn't cold exactly, but too quiet. Like he wasn’t just listening, he was recording. Those pale eyes of his didn’t connect, they calculated, as if you were something to be documented, not understood.

“Miss,” he said with a polite nod. “Is everything alright?”

No. Not even a little. "Could I ask you something?”

He gestured to the seat in front of his desk. You didn’t take it.

“I’m worried about Ares,” you said. “He’s been… different. I don’t know if it’s the stress, or the work, or something else. You see him more than I do these days. Has he said anything to you?”

Crane studied you in silence. The pause stretched too long. When he spoke, with his hands folded on the desk in front of him, he finally said. “He’s… functioning.”

You blinked. “Functioning?”

He gave a slight nod, expression unchanged. “He’s managing his responsibilities. That’s what matters, professionally.”

Professionally.

Your throat tightened. It wasn’t cruelty, it wasn’t even dismissiveness. It was actually something worse. Complete detachment. Like he was describing a machine or a file. Something clinical and expendable.

He's managing his responsibilities.

You looked at him, really looked at him, and suddenly wondered what kind of man could say that without blinking when someone was falling apart right in front of him.

Your vision blurred, tears were coming on. 

No. No. You would not cry in front of this man.

“Thank you,” you said quickly, voice catching. “That’s all I needed.”

You turned before he could see your face and walked out fast, heart pounding, your breath tight in your chest like something trapped. You didn’t let go until you reached your car, didn’t breathe or blink. And then you climbed into the driver’s seat, keys forgotten in your hand, sobbing quietly into your palms. Just for a moment. Just long enough to try and pull yourself back together.

She didn’t slam the door when she left. She was too composed for that, too careful. But he could still hear her footsteps -- fast and clipped as they retreated. And then, silence.

Jonathan sat perfectly still in his chair, watching the space she’d just occupied. His fingers rested on the arm of the chair. The faintest twitch at the knuckle.

She almost cried.

He hadn’t meant for that to happen. But now that it had, he felt… disappointed. Because he wanted her tears. He didn't care about sympathy or connection. He'd wanted them because they would've meant he mattered. That she felt something, and he was the reason for it. Instead, she turned and fled before he could see what he’d done.

She broke, but she didn’t let me witness it. And that, somehow, was worse.

She'd surprised him when she came in asking about Ares. About changes she was seeing, concerns she had. It was the kind of conversation that would have most people softening, empathic. Most people would've offered comfort, reassurance, some lie designed to stabilize.

He had merely offered the truth. He’s functioning. Because it was accurate. It was both clinical and measurable.  And yet it wasn’t what she needed. That mattered more than he wanted it to.

Jonathan reached for the drawer, the envelope. The necklace was still there, almost coiled in a perfect little spiral, like a thin, golden question mark.

You almost broke.

And it wasn’t the kind of break he saw every day. This wasn’t fear nor submission. This was personal.

Jonathan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He’d accomplished what he set out to do with Ares: confusion, doubt, stress. The man was coming apart. His credibility was strained and his focus slipping. One of the biggest side effects Jonathan was now seeing was the dulling of the man's instincts.

He'd intended to push harder this week, to deepen the manipulation. Accelerate the decline. But now…

Now she was part of the equation. If Ares fell too fast, she’d turn away from him completely. But if he suffered just enough, just visibly, she'd stay concerned, connected.

Jonathan slowly opened his eyes, his gaze shifting with a newfound clarity. Ares was no longer the target of his obsession. He’d already positioned himself to take over the moment Ares finally fell. The man’s reputation, his authority, his title -- it was all within reach. But that was no longer enough. The man’s career wasn’t the only thing he wanted.

She had become the fixation. Not because she resisted him. Not because she feared him.

But because she didn’t.

She looked at him like she saw something human beneath the cold. And that he wouldn't tolerate. She made him feel real.  And now he needed to control how.

She wasn’t just an observer anymore. She was part of the system now, inside it, unknowingly entangled in the very design he’d built to break someone else.

This time, he wasn’t going to let the variable walk away.

She was sitting under a tree when he saw her again, now in their senior year of high school. 

Jonathan had cut across campus to avoid a cluster of students outside the back of the building. It was warmer than usual for late October. The leaves hadn’t finished falling yet.

She was reading. That same girl, still perfectly still. Her hair was a braid down her back. Paint smudged the sleeve of her cardigan. She always smelled faintly of turpentine and citrus, he remembered that clearly. He remembered everything.

He didn’t speak to her. He stood behind a tree at the edge of the path, out of view. Watched her tuck her feet beneath her and tilt her head when she turned a page. There were headphones in her lap, but she wasn’t using them. Just… listening to the world. Present.

She didn’t look around and didn't scan for threats. She never acted like someone who’d ever looked at the world through fear.

How?

He hadn’t spoken to her in nearly four years. They hadn’t shared a class since middle school chemistry. But he remembered the way she made him feel, the absence of rejection. The weightless calm of being seen without being dissected. It had never happened before. It hadn’t happened since.

Jonathan watched her for twelve minutes and forty-two seconds. Then she laughed. Not loudly or theatrically. Just a single breath of sound, hidden behind the book’s spine.

And that was the moment he knew.

She was the only one who who sees me… without shrinking. And I need to understand why.

Jonathan didn’t work the rest of the afternoon. Oh, he looked busy. There were papers stacked neatly, notes scribbled with precision, reports reviewed and re-sorted. But none of it registered and not a single bit of it mattered.

She’d walked out of his office on the edge of tears, and he didn’t like it. Not because he cared, he didn’t. Not in the way people meant when they said it. He wasn’t moved by emotion. He didn’t comfort and he didn’t feel in the ordinary sense.

But he felt... cheated. She'd almost broken. And he hadn’t been able to observe the result. She had the audacity to hold it together just long enough to escape him. To keep that vulnerability to herself. There'd been no opportunity to see them, analyze anything. It that bothered him more than he expected.

Her distress had stayed with him longer than he expected. Tugged at something unclassified.

You almost cried. And it was because of me. Because I gave you nothing at all.

The envelope with her necklace still laid on his desk and he fished the broken chain and pendant out. The gold heart caught the light from his lamp, glinting like it remembered her skin. He turned it over once between his fingers. Then again before setting it down.

She was supposed to look at me. Not break in front of me and disappear. Not walk away like I wasn’t even part of the story.

Jonathan needed her to return to the narrative. Not as a spectator but a full participant.

Ares was serving his purpose. The doubt was seeded, the staff had started whispering. But if the man collapsed too soon, she’d pull away completely and distance herself from the fallout.

Jonathan couldn’t risk that. He needed to stabilize. Briefly. Ares needed to appear to recover. Just long enough for her to relax, let her guard down. To need a tether.

And Jonathan would be that tether. Or...

He stood and crossed to the cabinet by the window. Inside, behind folders and staff files, he pulled out a second binder. This one labeled with a single, bold word: ADMINISTRATIVE. He flipped to the page marked “Succession Protocol.” 

Chief Administrator must display psychological stability, leadership continuity, and staff confidence.

Jonathan smiled faintly. He already had two of the three. The third was a matter of time. But Arkham didn’t need a leader. It needed an architect. It’s structure was designed to contain madness…By people who don’t understand it. They catalog symptoms. He understands causes. They sedate. He cures. 

Becoming Chief Administrator wasn’t about prestige or politics. It was about environmental control. Turning Arkham into a space where his methodology, the exploration of fear, the dismantling of illusion, the transformation of identity, could thrive without restriction.

His research had cost him everything once. Administering his fear compound on live human subjects had gotten him dismissed from the university. Labeled unethical and dangerous. They called it a breach of protocol.

He called it progress.

Arkham wasn’t just a facility. It was freedom. A closed system with a captive audience. A place where fear could be weaponized and studied without interference. This time with no board or oversight. No leash. Here, he could build the perfect test bed for his work -- and the perfect mask to carry it out.

I don’t want to work for Arkham. I want Arkham to become what I am.

And she didn’t fit into that vision. She wasn’t like the others -- staff who played by rules, patients he could study, administrators who feared liability more than truth. She was the unpredictable wild card. Unafraid. Worse, she felt things deeply, loved too hard, trusted too easily. Even now.

She wasn't in the system, but she moved through it, untouched by its weight. And somehow, that gives her power I can’t quantify.

That made her a threat. Because when Ares fell, and it was only a matter of time, she could still remain. Asking questions. Looking way too closely at the fractures he so carefully crafted. If she started pulling at the seams, the illusion would tear. And this only worked if everyone believed it happened on its own.

Her grief could raise suspicious. Her insights could make her dangerous to his plans. Her presence alone could slow down what Arkham needed to become.

Arkham must reflect me. And she? She reflects something else entirely. Warmth. Memory. Balance. The last human thread.

He didn’t know whether to erase that…Or claim it. Jonathan had two options. 

Erase her and remove the variable. That eliminated the unpredictability. It was clean and logical.

Or he could claim her as he was claiming her fiance's career. Draw her closer, control the outcome, and let her grief fold into something he could shape.

Erasing her protected his plan. Claiming her made it personal. She didn’t fit into his vision either way.

But he wasn’t ready to lose her either.

His decision was made. Returning to his chair, he took a seat and reached for a blank form. Not for a patient record or a report, but a plain piece of paper. At the top, he wrote her name -- Observation/Engagement Strategy

Below it, in his best handwriting, he outlined the plan:

Minimize visible stressors on Ares -- 10-day stabilization period

1. Introduce neutral conversation with subject (off-premises recommended)

2. Identify shared emotional language

3. Establish controlled emotional connection

4. Observe: grief response, protectiveness, trust tendency

5. Adjust role in narrative accordingly

At the bottom of the page, he paused. Then added one last line.

What would it take for her to trust me?

[mariacallous]

Genetic testing company 23andMe, once a Silicon Valley darling valued at $6 billion, filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection late Sunday as it prepares for a sale of the business. CEO Anne Wojcicki, who cofounded the company in 2006, has also stepped down after months of failed attempts to take the firm private.

As uncertainty about the company’s future reaches its peak, all eyes are on the trove of deeply personal—and potentially valuable—genetic data that 23andMe holds. Privacy advocates have long warned that the risk of entrusting genetic data to any institution is twofold—the organization could fail to protect it, but it could also hand over customer data to a new entity that they may not trust and didn’t choose.

California attorney general Rob Bonta reminded consumers in an alert on Friday that Californians have a legal right to ask that an organization delete their data. 23andMe customers in other states and countries largely do not have the same protections, though there is also a right to deletion for health data in Washington state’s My Health My Data Act and the European Union’s General Data Protection Regulation. Regardless of residency, all 23andMe customers should consider downloading anything they want to keep from the service and should then attempt to delete their information.

“This situation really brings home the point that there is still no national health privacy law in the US protecting your rights unless you live in California or Washington,” says Andrea Downing, an independent security researcher and cofounder of the patient-led digital rights nonprofit The Light Collective. “Meanwhile, we continue to evolve our understanding of how genetic information has value, but also has unique vulnerability.”

John Verdi, senior vice president of policy at the Future of Privacy Forum, says 23andMe’s new owner could revise the company’s privacy policies for new customers and new data collection, but the data it has already collected from current customers is subject to existing terms. “The company has legal obligations regarding information collected under the current policies,” he says.

Still, researchers emphasize that in practice, such a large transition will create real data exposure that is outside of 23andMe customers’ control. “In my opinion, these privacy policies—especially in the context of acquisitions in the venture capital and private equity space—aren't worth the paper they're printed on,” says longtime security researcher and data privacy advocate Kenn White. “For regular people out there who use these services, you're pretty much on your own. My advice is to request your data get deleted as soon as possible"

To delete your genetic data through 23andMe’s website, log in and then go to Settings in your profile. Scroll to 23andMe Data and then click View. At this point, you can choose to download a copy of your genetic information. Then scroll to Delete Data and click Permanently Delete Data. Once you initiate the process, you’ll receive an email from 23andMe to confirm. Click the link in the email to complete the deletion process. Additionally, you can direct 23andMe to destroy the biological sample it used to extract your DNA data if you previously authorized the company to keep it. Go to Settings and then Preferences.

You can also opt in to and out of participating in research at any time by updating your consent status in your account settings. If you opt out, 23andMe will stop using your information for research going forward and will discontinue use of your data within 30 days. This does not affect studies that have already been completed.

23andMe has never been profitable and has struggled to revamp its business model since it went public in 2021. Demand for its ancestry and health testing kits has been declining for years. And data privacy has had a role to play in the company’s dwindling fortunes after the company was hit with a major data breach in December 2023 that affected millions of customers. The incident led to a class action lawsuit, which 23andMe agreed to settle for $30 million.

Last summer, Wojcicki filed a proposal to take the company private, which was rejected by 23andMe’s board of directors. Shortly after, the company shuttered its in-house drug discovery unit, and its board members resigned en masse over Wojcicki’s strategic direction.

23andMe says it intends to continue operating as usual throughout the sale process and that there are no immediate changes to the way it stores, manages, or protects customer data. In an open letter to customers, the company said it will “seek to find a partner who shares our commitment to customer data privacy and allows our mission of helping people access, understand and benefit from the human genome to live on.” But the direction of 23andMe will ultimately be in the hands of whoever takes over the company.

“If there is a new owner that comes out of the bankruptcy process, that new owner steps into the shoes of 23andMe and takes over those assets,” says Jennifer Wagner, an assistant professor of law, policy, and engineering and anthropology at Penn State University.

“They would still be bound by the complex web of contractual agreements that are in place right now with users,” Wagner adds. “But I think it does give rise to some uncertainty in terms of whether or not a new player would have the same values or that same kind of culture that 23andMe was trying to cultivate.”

[acesandwords]

Offline Library

In light of all the Ao3 issues lately I'm gonna throw this up as something people should consider doing. Make your own library of your favorite fics and any you might like to read in the future/are currently reading.

How do you do this? To start: Calibre & ReadEra app

Calibre is a free ebook management software, available on windows, mac, and linux - but also comes in a portable version you can put on a flash drive. Ebooks are very small files, 100s of fics can easily take less than 1GB of space. You can create categories for everything and all the tags on the fics will stay attached to them. You can download directly through ao3, or you can use the browser extension Ficlab which can make the process a little quicker, plus give you a book cover(or you can add your own cover). Epub or Mobi format is best.

ReadEra, is a free reading app with no ads that you can tell to only access a single file where you keep your ebooks. It's open source and the Privacy Statement and Terms & Conditions are very short and easy to read. You can transfer files from Calibre to your phone, but this is also a good option if you don't have a PC to use Calibre. You can make folders to organize all your fics.

Quality of life plugins for Calibre: Preferences > Plugins > Get New Plugins

Look up: EpubMerge, EpubSplit, FanFicFare, Generate Cover (restart calibre once you've added them all) Fun fact, with FanFicFare, you can download new chapters to update fics that are currently in progress directly in Calibre instead of having to open up ao3.

Also, to be clear - back them up for yourself only, don't you fucking dare repost them anywhere.

You can also backup Kindle books (and you should) with Calibre, though that's a bit more complicated; instructions under the read more

Firstly what is DRM? TLDR: digital rights management (DRM) is meant to prevent piracy, however, this also means you never really own your ebooks. If Amazon decides to take down a book you bought? That's it, it's gone and it doesn't matter that you paid for it.

Removing DRM If you're on PC and don't have a kindle device, you'll want kindle version 2.4.0 or it won't work in Calibre.

In Calibre, navigate to Preferences > Plugins > Load Plugin From File - DeDRM - Use the latest Beta or Alpha release, follow instructions on the github page

Preferences > Plugins > Get New Plugins

Look up: KFX Input

You'll have to restart Calibre once you install so just add them all at once before you restart it.

If you need some troubleshooting help setting anything up just ask and I'll try to help!