#but instead ive been writing oc fanfic

[harleehazbinfics]

ermm ermmm ,,,,, , cannibal!reader has like a sad past right (i saw u mention they were abused hence the obsession w approval) ,, well okay what if the hotel residents found out? like ... idk one of reader’s parents shows up at the hotel ... idk , honestly i just really love how you write cannibal reader theyre wildly silly

Crazy for you!

--- cannibal chef m.list

a/n: AWWW THANK YOU SO MUCHHH they/she is indeed very silly, i most of my inspo from myself and other fans of alastor and their reactions lmao. ive been stuck on one fanfic for days i gave up today and words just flowed for cannibal chef reader, i can't--. also plsplspls if you find any of this triggering pls turn back, i want all of you to be in a safe space.

warnings: abusive mother, shaming choice of clothing, weight shaming, typical asian behavior of 'be a doctor or lawyer' but rudeness level maxed out, being called ungrateful, useless etcetc DISCLAIMER: Any scenarios are entirely fictional and have no direct relation to any person and taken from behaviours I see, read or hear from. Thank you. word count: 1292

You, Alastor, Niffty, Husk, Angel and Sir Pentious got together and were enjoying a lazy weekend just lounging around the parlor just enjoying each other's company and talking amongst each other. The lot of them fitting on the couch and the floor. You stood beside Alastor sitting on a chair by himself drinking his coffee indulging himself in a casual conversation.

You all turn your heads when the door opens expecting to see Vaggie and Charlie, preparing to greet them and get them to join you all. However, they stop in themselves from doing so when they see the both of them touring a person in.

Your constant smile drops at the sight of her. You immediately recognize the face and voice making you slowly and quietly hid behind the chair Alastor making yourself small as to not catch their attention. Alastor, of course, notices this action and raises his eyebrow.

"And this is Angel and Sir Pentious our other guest, Niffty our cleaning maid and Husk our bartender. Alastor here is the host of the hotel, he's the who supported all our endeavors!" Charlie states.

"Oh! Isn't that the Radio Demon? Dear it is him! I'm a big fan of yours," your mother mooches at Alastor earning a displeased static sound from him when she abruptly shook his hand without his permission.

"Alastor, where's (y/n)? Aren't they always with you?" Charlie asks making you cringe as you cautiously walk towards them.

"(Y/n)? Is that you?" your mother asks in disbelief before enveloping you in a hug, which made you sick to your stomach. "Oh gosh! It's been years! Look at you! You look so skanky with that clothing. You also look like you've gained weight. I told you not to go to culinary school and be a doctor or lawyer instead. You look so fat now, probably from all that meat you're eating. You should've gone vegan look how your Aunt Karen slimmed down, she's been going around and teaching, crazy bitch. Anyway, take my luggage to my room, I need to talk to everyone here. Good? Great."

You tried to get a word in with dejected eyes but lose your voice when she gives you harsh glare. You sigh and take her bags and answered, "Yes mother."

Without you noticing, all the others went deathly silent as they watch you look so sad. Your almost permanent smile disappeared from your face making them surprised and worried. You always smiled around them, mimicking Alastor's grin that was plastered on your face. Sure, they've seen you drop the smile when you were separated with Alastor before but eventually you opened up to them and was seen constantly socializing and smiling around them making them feel relieved being the youngest of all of them, but they never seen you look so sad before. Coupled with the backhanded comments made by your mother, they couldn't help but feel hostile.

Indeed, you were crazy and a bit of a monster, but you were the sweetest most thoughtful thing that ever happened to them. Any occasion was prepared by you ranging from the Hotel's Anniversary, Birthdays and even as miniscule as just a mission accomplished on their rehabilitation program. This encouraged everyone to do better with how much faith you put in them. (That and your cooking is so out of this world that even Angel would dial his drug intake from a 15 to a 13 for a treat.)

So, when your sweet and genuine smile faded, they glared at the perpetrator that made you react so drastically. However, in respect for Charlie they held their tongue first.

"Sooo, what's your relationship with (y/n)?" Charlie asks trying to be polite despite the tense atmosphere.

"Oh, her? She's my daughter. Ungrateful little wench, I took care of her her whole life and the thanks I get is her running away home. Next thing I know she's in a boarding school for taking culinary classes. Where'd that bitch even get that money, she should've paid everything he owed to us first! Her parents! Say, can you make me a drink Whiskers? Just thinking of that bitch makes my head hurt. Make it snappy," she orders around slumping onto a vacant seat making herself very at home.

"Don't call me Whiskers, only my friends get to call me that. And I ain't taking shit from you," Husker replies turning his back at her.

She gasps dramatically and yells, "You call this hospitality?!"

She stands up trying to reach Husk, Angel stands in between them along with Pentious and Niffty before a black tendril shoots out from the ground wrapping around her.

"This is where I draw the line," Vaggie growls pointing her spear at your mother.

"What? You actually like that girl? Pft, what the fuck's that all about. She's ungrateful and good for nothing. You actually like someone as useless as her?" your mother laughs at the protective group, her eyes widen as she sees Charlie change into her demon form.

Alastor gently pushes her behind him stopping her in her tracks. He says, "I'll handle this. This obviously concerns my closest companion so this will fall into my hands."

Your mother scrutinizes him finding his tone and gesture quite odd then her eyes lighten up in recognition. She laughs at him and yells, "You can't be serious! You like that--"

She gets cut off as the tendril wraps around her mouth and drags you in his shadow, ceasing her muffled screams. As soon as she disappears, you come down finding all of them but your mom.

"Where's my mom?"

"Sheeee changed her mind! Yeah! She told us that she had something to do," Charlie lies between her teeth with an anxious look in her eyes making Vaggie elbow her despite her doing the same.

"Oh, I see," you say still not smiling, "Will she come back? Her things are still here."

"Nah. She ain't comin' back, sweet cheeks. She's got better shit to do apparently and wanted us to drop off her stuff on an address," Angel casually lies beckoning her to sit with them petting your head after.

Husk nudges Pentious making him confused for a while before getting the message, answering, " Y-yes! I will do it right now. Eggbois! Take the woman's things outside the hotel!"

While the little eggs tottered to do their master's bidding your eyes slowly light up but not fully their yet.

"Look kid, we won't prod into your business but know if you ever need someone to talk to, you've got a bartender right here," Husk jokes with a grin holding onto his suspenders in a pose making you slightly giggle.

"Hey, hey you got us too!" Angel, Charlie, Niffty and Pentious (that got back from telling them to throw the old bat's shit into the garbage) joined in earning a smile from Vaggie and Alastor.

After you felt better, you called in for the day and left to your rooms. After escorting Alastor to his room he snags you inside then comes in close before petting your head tenderly.

You look at him surprised, although without your normal heart eyes that you give him, confused at his actions.

He brushes his fingers against your cheek electrifying you and states, "Whenever you get into trouble, tell me. I'll handle it myself, after all you are mine."

Your eyes shape into hearts, legs turning into jelly, heart beating faster and faster by the millisecond, trying to comprehend the weight of his words and engraving them into your brain.

"Understood?" he asks pleased with your reaction.

"Yes, Sir~" you breathed out finding yourself flushed red, breath hot and heavily.

"Good," he smiles devilishly.

(I'll leave the ending as ambiguous 😌)

[asgardswinter]

Begging people who join the cod fandom and want to write fanfics; to read the wiki pages of the characters and watch cutscenes of the campaigns (they r free to watch on youtube)

The characters dont have much to go on to begin with, but they still have personalities that are very different from one another thats important to capture in your stories.

Theres been so many times ive seen writers put in their author note that they havent watched any campaigns and they are just going off on other fanfics, like, its so annoying. I end up reading the fics and they are extremely OOC that at this point its just an OC with Simons face on it or something.

Its ok to not know much about them in the beginning and get things wrong, and its ok to have headcanons that might be a bit ooc, (i do too!) but still having the personality and depth there that i can recognize that this is Ghost and this is Gaz etc.

So if you’re gonna put in effort to write a 5k+ fanfic, then u have time to read their wikis instead of depending on a few tiktok edits lmao

[harvardhaugland]

Never requested anything in my life but how about a scenario where the reader jumpscares either jamie, luke or bosch (in the rooftops, while playing a game or training) and gets a laugh out of their reaction and then they get reader back for it except it leads into something a bit spicy 😳

Love your writing so much, I'll eat up anything you put out fr

-@gourdkeeper (anon because it'd message from my main </3)

twister! - luke ♡

a/n: ok funnily enough i actually had written ab eerily similar personal fic to something like this execpt it was an oc insert + they were training instead HELPPP but omg… yas of course!!! i already have another jamie fic in the works so i feel like i gotta switch things up w/ luke 👆👆sorry ive been writing nothing but fanfic smut lately and its only bc literally half of my account is old amateur fluff hcs LMAO

not proofread bc… YOLO!!!!

You do this routinely thing of hanging out with each and every one of your masters, a whole schedule, specific times of days. On Monday mornings Chun-li teaches you skeet shooting, Wednesday evenings are reserved for baking with Manon, Saturday nights are best for alcoholic shot games with Jamie.

Sometimes simple, sometimes ridiculous. You’re a real people pleaser.

No matter what day though, you always find some way to squeeze in game-time with your first master— Luke, of course. The two of you hangout often, being intimate whilst also eating snacks and constantly bantering whenever you game. Tonight was different, instead of the usual Strawberry Fighter IV ranked matches, you had suggested playing Twister. Boardgames are just some “old-fashioned fun”, you told him.

You both had been playing for hours now, no breaks, your limbs entwining, you have your head underneath Luke’s chest, both hands on two dots just below his feet. He has his face pressed against your back, facing the opposite way.

Luke is no Ryu, that’s for sure. But you’d like to think he would be somewhat skittish around scary insects— so before he reaches for the spinner again, your fingers lightly tickle his leg, trying to imitate the feeling of something crawling up his leg. Quickly, you shout, “Is that a spider?” drawing your hand back quickly.

“What—!?” Luke immediately backs away, falling off the plastic mat, shaking and kicking his legs frantically, watching you slowly rise up from the floor, fists in the air.

“Gotcha!” you point to him, laughing, holding your stomach with a wide grin on your face. Never in your life would you believe that actually worked as well as it did.

He pouts. Standing up, crossing his arms, checking his legs one more time, just incase, “Aw, c’mon. You cheated!” he points back at you, “But aw man, that was a good one..” he quietly admits. One thing about him that you’re glad about— he doesn’t take things to heart.

“I’ll get you back.” he swears, a wide smile on his face. Seemingly riled up already.

Before you quip back with a sly remark, Luke charges at you. Pinning you down against the floor, sparking up a playful wrestling match. Your legs are beside his hips, Luke’s arms are wrapped around your waist and his head is snuggled into the crook of your neck. He’s squeezing you, trying to pin you into submission. You’re too flustered to even try to “fight” back, simply giggling, hugging around his body instead, trying to insinuate to him.

“You’re bad.” he whispers, quickly pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Were you just trying to get into my pants? You could’ve just asked, y’know. I’d gladly twist you into a pretzel myself—“

“Stop it, you cornball.” you joke, lightly tugging his head back. Luke starts to attack your neck with kisses. He’s quick to slide his hands underneath your shirt, feeling up your chest, moving his lips to touch yours, he’s more rougher and excited than usual. The days where you manage to get under his skin are the best.

He pulls you closer towards him, pressing your hips together, grinding his erection against you. You card your hands through his hair, he looks up at you with half-lidded eyes, mouth open agape, hot and bothered. He’s all of the sudden desperate to fuck you. He slides down your pants with haste, pulling down his own right after. When it comes to sex, Luke is way too excited, he’s often sloppy, messy as if he was actually inexperienced.

“You always look so good.” he says, pressing his fingers to your mouth, obliging you to open up, slicking his fingers with spit, sucking on his digits, muffled moaning as he continues to grind against you, pulling his fingers out.

Fucking on rooftops in the nighttime meant that you had privacy— but everyone could still very much hear you. So the two of you make a desperate effort to stay quiet, covering each other’s mouths everytime one lets out a particularly loud moan.

He makes it clear how badly he wants to be inside of you. He’s in a rush to use your spit as lube, teasing the tip of his cock into your entrance, closely observing your face for any sort of reactions as he slowly pushes in, groaning out in relief. Luke collapses against you, more licking and kissing all over your neck. Slow, hard thrusts rock your body back, he’s big, confident when he fucks, leaving you a sensitive, whiney, and needy mess everytime.

You want more, you beg for him, demand him to go harder, faster or slower. He obeys your every order, looking to please you, praise you.

“Luke,” you call out to him with a moan, “Close— so close.” you whine.

“Are you gonna cum? You just— god, you’re too good to me.” he groans, “I wish I could just fuck you all night, watch you get all shy for me.” he says, his thumb caressing your cheek. He’s hooked on all the noises you make, the little changes in your expression. It’s all too much, he feels you tighten around him, arching your back, pressing against his sweaty body.

“Good job, baby.” Luke pulls you into another tight hug, pressing a kiss to your neck, “Hold on, okay?” God, it seemed no matter how much you tease him, or how pent-up you’ll try to make him, Luke absolutely never would be degrading with you. When he speaks a constant flow of praises in your ears, the tone in his voice is shaky, so gentle with you, willing to keep going for as long as you cum.

You feel his cock twitch, his movements growing more sporadic, making the Twister mat underneath you two scrunch up and wrinkle, ruining the once wholesome little game. Luke lets out a relieved groan. His hips stutter as he cums inside, keeping you still against his pelvis, pulling out slow when he’s finished. “I’m still mad at you for cheating.” he jabs, sarcastic.

“Well, you paused the game last time I almost broke your win-streak! It’s fair game.” you reason.

[lexithwrites]

soooo what's exactly your problem with lily (i understand this one, if the fandom gonna take her husband from her they at least should do her justice or don’t write her) and barty being portrayed as shitty exes and why you can't scroll past and let people write what they want and where does your limitation end? are you also gonna bash writers who write regulus as raging homophobe and rapist in wolfstar fanfics or it doesn’t apply to him? what about snape? the way he's written in many marauders fanfics goes against his canon arc, should the writers be called out for inaccurate portrayal of him?

i think characters are tools and if writers wanna use them as tools it should not be controversial. do you think otherwise?

to answer your first question — because it's an opinion. am i going onto people's fanfictions and wasting my time commenting that i hate their trope? no. am i calling authors out by username? no. am i just stating my opinion on my tumblr? yes. plus, you are well within your right to scroll too, you didn't have to let my post get to you? if it offends you that much then block me lmao

id love to know what fics you're reading where regulus does that?? but no i dont agree with that therefore i wouldnt bother reading it? idc how popular a fic is, if i dont wanna read it then i dont have to, its called having free will. i dont want to read about a r*pist for a start, and ive never really liked snape that much and ive only read the books once and watched the films growing up, i dont really think about his character that much especially since i only write muggle/modern aus. write them how you want, but it doesn't mean i have to like it does it?

i dont think anyone should bash authors for their work, myself included. am i allowed to have a private, personal opinion on what i want to read/enjoy reading? absolutely, everyone is in their right! as are you anon, but coming to me and saying this is surely a waste of your time? my opinion doesn't matter to anyone but me lmao

and when did i say it was controversial? i just said i dont like when people make these characters the bad guys when they dont have to. oc's exist for a reason, why not make lily and james old childhood friends instead of exes that have bad blood? why does barty just have to be the old fuck buddy that regulus never looked at again the moment james came around, when he and regulus could have been raised as brothers together and are close that way? or they could all be strangers, the possibilities of fanfics are endless! thats the beauty of them! but is this gonna keep me up at night that authors have FREE WILL and can CHOOSE to write whatever they wanna write? hell no idc that much lmao, but this is my tumblr, as i said, and i can say what i want on it tbh

anyway, if you hate my opinion that much then thats cool, im not mad at that, but you can do much more vital things in your day im sure, have a good one <3

[malewife-overlord]

Six Cycles Later -- Part I

OKAY SO. after speaking to literally two people about some oc transformer fic ive been working on, ive decided to post just chapter 1 here, to see if anyone else would like to see the ocs ive been quietly going crazy for in the background. instead of writing actual proper fanfic ive decided to just go off the rails writing a canon elaboration on characters who dont exist. i will now make it everyone elses problem.

tbh im intending to keep writing this for as long as it brings me joy, and im already working on chapter 2. whether this gets attention or not won't change that fact. just kinda posting here to garner some attention/see if anyone else would like to get invested in my silly lil ocs.

this takes place in sorta a g1/idw mixed continuity, im not particularly picky or strict about canon, because really, im just here to have fun and vibe. it will focus on my OCs, not canon characters, though a couple will still be present :> this idea has been one that nagged at me for a bit--isnt it a bit weird that the decepticons just straight up seem to abandon their prior base on earth in g1 following the movie? i wondered for a while what it'd be like if any of them were left behind. so, i've decided to make an oc for it and explore that a little. aaaaaand then i kinda went off the rails (but we'll get there, lol). if none of that is particularly off-putting to you, feel free to proceed! and comments are always appreciated if you enjoy

Summary: Invert is a nobody. One of a million Seekers constructed for a war that would claim their lives, she's survived due to her uselessness. Forged with a defective frame and kept around for a single devastating ability that hurts her to use it, she may as well be a glorified cleaning bot. Months after the other Decepticon's left to assault Autobot City, Invert remains behind on Earth, waiting, on the sunken Victory, maintaining the base and holding out hope that her brethren will eventually return.

But with only silence and an emotionless ship for company, she's started to become increasingly desperate--so much so, that, when an SOS from a ship that should be empty arrives, she just might throw caution to the wind and leave on a mission that could change her life.

Luster was somebody, once. Was. He can't remember any of it. Having disappeared at the start of the war on some ludicrous quest, only now has he awoken on a strange planet called 'Earth'. Accepted back by his Autobot brethren, the void of his past haunts him endlessly, as does a mysterious, insatiable hunger. He's determined to get to the bottom of both--but with the fog they produce only deepening, how long does he have before he's lost eternally?

Chapter 1 --Word Count 7495

Orbital cycle: 6.3. Approximately 182.5 solar cycles since initial launch for attack on Autobot City. Diagnostic report: no structural damage detected. Energon levels: 27%. Energon levels of 50% recommended for full functionality. Defense systems: offline. Offensive systems: offline. Cloaking systems: online. Communications: partially online. Power saving mode recommended at Energon levels of 25%. 

She records the report in her datapad down to the final recommendation, which really was not necessary, considering any proper engineer would have understood that by now, the ship should have entered power saving mode eons ago. If it had been placed in that mode when the other Decepticons had initially left, the current Energon levels would sit comfortably at the recommended 50%, and she would still have the long distance communications beacon up. But that was in the past, where they were supposed to have returned after a few solar cycles. 

It had been dozens now, and Invert was starting to wonder if her brethren were going to return. A far more patient bot like Shockwave would not have felt any doubt up to the first double digit million years–how else had he held down Cybertron for so long? By comparison she was young, having barely lived for over a million. The hundreds of solar cycles that had passed as she was left alone on the Victory were now starting to seep into her processor, bringing with them questions of uncertainty.

The raid was supposed to last barely a few days. They’d brought everyone in the local system with them. The greatest warriors the Decepticon cause had were deployed. With all of them attacking at once, even the heavily fortified Autobot City should have been leveled in under a deca-cycle. 

And yet there was silence. No cries of victory. No chaotic messages on the airways calling for aid. No declaration of retreat. Just silence. 

They couldn’t be defeated. If they’d been defeated they would have retreated back to Victory. If they’d gone back to Cybertron on Astrotrain, then surely Shockwave would have contacted her on earth. He knew her name. He knew he’d sent her there orbital cycles ago. He’d know they’d left her behind to hold down the fort. 

There was, of course, one other option. Silence was begetting of only a few characteristics when it came to the living. The Autobots, surely, wouldn’t. They were too soft-hearted. But if the attack had truly gone so badly, and they’d deigned it necessary–

Total obliteration. Total razing. Total loss. 

She pushed the thoughts swirling in her processor aside and focused back on Victory’s main computer, typing in a few commands. 

“Victory, run an internal scan. How are your habsuits looking?”

A map of Victory’s internal structure appeared on the screen before her. Dozens of rooms were selected and zoomed in on, each of which specifically served as living space. One by one they started as black, then turned white as they were provided the all clear. 

Structure: stable. Living conditions: adjusted. Doors: unlocked. 

“Alright, that’s good…” she muttered to herself, swapping to the cameras on the outside of the ship. They revealed an empty sea around her, dark and creeping with small organics. Their crude forms made her cringe, even in the restricted view she had of them. “Gross…Victory, illuminate your external hull.” 

Victory obeyed, revealing a vast expanse of metal currently covered in the earth version of space barnacles. The white-shelled creatures had opened their filthy maws, extending forth feelers characteristic of some kind of horror show. Invert grimaced and swapped the camera views, checking instead on the door to the airlock. It was immaculately clean unlike the hull, though a few many legged organics crawled across it. 

She checked the back of the ship, its thrusters, its scope, and finally its body. Making a note of each location that needed proper cleaning, Invert tapped the information into her datapad and closed the camera system before issuing another command. “Victory, check the wavelengths for any signs of communication.” 

The screen before her went black, turning to a single unmoving flat line. She stared at it in silence, waiting for a peak, a leap, a blur, a single beat to indicate that anyone was out there. 

Nothing happened. 

Frowning to herself, she tapped a button on the keyboard before her–the one for “broadcast”. 

“Fellow Decepticons,” she said, “if any of you are out there, I am Invert of Cybertron, broadcasting from the Earth base Victory. I am alone here and have been so since the attack on Autobot City. If you are hearing this message, please respond.” 

Her servo left the button and she waited. And waited. And waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

And nothing came, as it never did. 

She vented and focused back on her datapad, the frown perched upon her face seemingly eager to make it a permanent home. There was her chore list, plain and simple. It would take her several megacycles to complete: clean the habsuits, clean the storage vault, clean the weapons vault, clean the hallways, feed Victory, scrape away the organics on Victory’s hull, manage the outside of Victory, air another message after seven megacycles, spy on the Autobots if possible.

If possible. The last one was becoming an increasingly harder task to pull off. She was no Soundwave, and Victory’s listening equipment had been down for a while now to preserve power. Furthermore the equipment in Soundwave’s habsuit was either completely foreign or off-limits to her. He may not be here now, but he would return, like the others would, and if he found out she’d been messing with his items, well. She was only a lowly foot soldier, and he was the head of communications of the Decepticon cause. 

She’d be lucky if only her wings were broken off and used to decorate his sparsely covered habsuit. 

Speaking of her wings…she cast a glance down at the inverted things, which pointed towards the ground as opposed to the air. They would do her no favors in navigating the outside of the ship and certainly no aid in reaching the higher spots in the larger habsuits. Her boosters were functional, but the Energon they’d consume to keep her airborne would drain her at twice the levels of a normal Seeker. 

She’d have to use them sparingly if she wanted to continue her present consumption rate of only one Energon cube a day. If she offlined from low power, that was fine; eventually her brethren would return, find her, and bring her back. But without her, no one would feed Victory, who would eventually offline from low power. Victory had to stay online, no matter what. 

Where else would the Decepticons go when they came back, if they didn’t have Victory? 

“I’ll keep you going, girl…” she whispered as she left the control room, reaching a hand out to run along the walls of the ship. Victory, as usual, was silent. It always was. 

Perhaps none of the other Decepticons had shared her sentiment, but Invert had always thought of The Victory (Victory for short) as a fellow ‘con. It was a crashed ship, yes, but it was alive and functional, and it provided them a home within its body. Victory could respond to commands and hold conversations if it so wished; just the majority of the time, it preferred not to. For all she knew Victory was just trapped in permanent stasis lock, and would perhaps free itself one day. 

As such, it was important to take care of Victory, for more purposes than just maintaining a Decepticon earth base. Victory was an ally with much greater might than her. If it fell, everything was lost. 

That was why they’d left her behind when the entire cause had prepared for the assault on Autobot City–it had to be. Someone had to take care of Victory and it was for the better that that someone was her. Perhaps it had been said to her in a less kind way, but the others had had a point when they said that someone who couldn’t contribute properly to a fight would be better off staying behind. 

Okay, they’d said it a lot less kindly. More so, they’d chided her that a flightless Seeker was utterly useless on the field despite whatever “special talent” Shockwave had promised she possessed. And for the battle of Autobot City, they needed soldiers who were functional, powerful, and wouldn’t prove dangerous to their allies as well as their foes. Besides, for swelling their numbers, they had the Insecticon clones. So someone like her, broken, glitched, and more of a liability than anything else, would only be good for ensuring that Victory didn’t somehow miraculously break while they were gone. 

Because really, if Victory was invaded, it wasn’t that big of a deal. The ship was equipped to deal with invasions. Its defensive systems were more than adequate for dispatching invaders both inside and out. Invert was only present within it to mop up the Energon remains of whoever was fool enough to try. 

No one had been–but that could also be attributed to the fact that the Autobots didn’t seem to know where the Decepticon base was. That, or they just didn’t care. Invert preferred the former. Why would it be inconsequential to know where the enemy’s base was, where they were likely to crawl back to and lick their wounds? And surely they were licking their wounds somewhere out there, weren’t they?

So why hadn’t they come back?

She pushed the thought away again and threw open one of the few cleaning closets the ship possessed, grabbing all the equipment she’d need to properly clear out all the habsuits. Nowadays it was more dusting than anything else, but she still brought along a mop and bucket, just in case. 

The habsuits would start with Starscream’s, of course, because if she cleaned anyone else’s first and he found out, he’d throw a fit. And a fit from her commander was not something Invert wanted to sit through. He always treated her with more vitriol than any of the other Seekers, no matter how inconsequential her mistakes might be compared to theirs. She had an ounce of resentment towards him for it, countered only by the fact that, no matter how awful Starscream could be, he was deserving of respect for his flight abilities. 

But that was a low bar. Any winged Decepticon could fly circles around her while all she could do was watch and seethe. 

She vented and tapped the passcode to his habsuit’s door into its keypad, the double doors opening to reveal a pristine and lavishly decorated room. Starscream was nothing if not dramatic and narcissistic. All the valuables and self-care items stored in his habsuit spoke lengths to just what he’d do for a decent polish. Cleaning it was always a nightmare, even after all the times she’d done it before. If even one item was an inch out of place, she’d hear about it later. 

A tiny chuckle escaped her at the thought–when was the last time she’d heard Starscream’s voice for any purpose? Be it admonishing her for attempting even once to be a proper Seeker, bossing her around, treating her as his personal slave, or verbally abusing her to let his Megatron-induced anger out, it had been so long she almost found herself forgetting how cruel the insults had been. 

Almost. She entered his habsuit with her cleaning gear and checked everything over–berth, vanity, table, overly expensive one of a kind statue in his image, all the data-pads he pretended didn’t contain failed plans to assassinate their great leader, full length mirror that somehow hadn’t been broken, each and every one of his polishes and maintenance equipment, and of course, the additional weapons he kept on the wall. 

There wasn’t a speck of dust on anything nor any indication of water damage. The berth was made perfectly.. The floor was clean save for her own pedeprints. And the metal of the walls gleamed like it’d been treated with the same care as Starscream himself. 

There was nothing to clean, but she still gave everything a dust off, just to be safe. Giving everything one final look over for rust, Invert confirmed there to be no contamination on any of Starscream’s immensely precious belongings and left his habsuit, locking it behind her.

One down. At least fifty more to go. She vented again and moved to the next.

—-----

Maintenance was finished by the time the Earth’s sun moved high into the sky. Her internal clock read 16:23, a new method of telling time that had been adjusted for her when she’d arrived on Earth. The planet operated on a twenty-four megacycle basis, working around when the sun would orbit to the other side of the planet. The absence of the sun was named “night”, and could occur anywhere from 17:00-21:00, sometimes later. Having spent much of her time on Cybertron, she had been unaccustomed to Earth’s time, and figured it to be useless for the majority of her stay on the planet. 

“Night” had its benefits, though. Its darkness concealed well, and most organics chose to enter recharge when it came on. It was the perfect time to enact plots, schemes, and occasional terrorist attacks on Autobot City. 

The season Earth was presently in was dubbed “summer”. That meant night would not come until 21:00. She had time. After finishing with the habsuits, Invert focused on maintaining Victory. 

At 16:28 she scraped away the organics on the outside of the hull, using her thrusters to properly climb up onto it. Finishing the front at 17:34, she headed to the side, then the back, ending at 18:20. Once back inside, she accessed the Energon vault and took stock before feeding Victory. 

92 cubes left. Victory sufficed on ten per day. Power saving mode was beginning to look tempting now, if not for the risk that it would cease cloaking. And considering how often she had to transmit, the loss would be nothing short of catastrophic. 

More Energon was needed, then. She’d have to ration herself more. She fit eleven cubes in her arms and brought them to Victory’s engine. As they were tossed in she held the one extra up. 

“To another cycle, Victory.” It was brought to her dermas and promptly consumed. 

Victory gave no response, as always. Invert stared at the empty cube in her servos for only a second before turning to take it back to storage. 

At which point Victory’s system suddenly lit up. The screen turned on behind her, displaying a map of the planet and pinging a specific point somewhere in Asia. Invert looked back and raised her brows. 

“SOS signal of Decepticon origin detected,” Victory stated in its monotone voice. “Displaying coordinates on screen. Incoming message. Playing now.”

Before Invert could even brace herself, an unholy buzzing suddenly sounded through the speakers, so shrill and constant that she collapsed to one knee, instinctively slamming her servos over her audials. Gritting her dentae she opened her hub and turned her audials all the way down, which made the buzzing just tolerable enough for her to reach Victory’s main computer and slam her fist on the OFF button. 

The sound stopped so suddenly it left her processor ringing. She blinked several times, then knocked a fist against the side of her helm, shaking it a few times to properly orient herself. 

Victory had gone silent again, but continued to display the ping and its coordinates. Invert looked up at them, transcribing them in her memory. What kind of distress signal had that been? Victory’s audio systems must be going, perhaps from too much time spent under the Earth’s water. An SOS signal usually captured the sound of blaster fire, of desperate voices crying for help, of bitter regret as whatever ‘con was on the other end laid aside his pride to admit he needed back-up. 

That thought made her uneasy. Buzzing. Why have an SOS signal that was nothing but buzzing? 

“Victory…” she paused, winced, and told herself that it wasn’t going to hurt as badly the second time. “Play the SOS signal again. At a decreased volume!” 

It complied, the loud, painful buzzing sounding over the speakers once more. Invert increased her audials this time, even though the sound made her want to rip them out of her helm. Listening closely, she focused on differentiating corrupted audio from what might be beneath, be it voices, blaster fire, or the sound of fleeing pedesteps. 

But the clip ended without any differentiating sounds. She found that odd, and replayed it in her processor again and again, trying to filter through it. Nothing. Just buzzing.

“Victory, run a diagnostic on your audio systems,” she ordered. The screen changed as Victory did just that, then returned several cycles later with a clear report: nothing was wrong. 

The Energon she’d consumed sat uneasily in her tank. Invert grimaced. “Display the coordinates again,” she commanded, though they were already saved to her memory. Seeing them on the screen solidified her doubts. 

Bali. There was a ship in Bali that she knew about, one that had harbored several unsavory occupants of the Decepticon cause. They, too, had disappeared after the attack on Autobot City. 

Insecticons. Members of the cause notorious for how untrustworthy they were. She hadn’t been around for all the cases where they’d proven themselves to be nothing but hassles who only cared for endless consumption, but she’d read reports of actions and abilities. They were a self-contained group and stuck to their own–why would they call for help now, several orbital cycles after their last appearance in Autobot City?

Buzzing. Their entire signal had just been buzzing. She frowned, thinking it over. Their alt modes were based off of filthy organics, and as such, carried some characteristics of the ugly things. Was the buzzing a possible side effect of that? But they could speak, so why wouldn’t they?

Unless they weren’t able to, for some reason? During an SOS signal? 

An SOS signal from a self-contained, proud group, perfectly capable of surviving on their own, that contained an off-putting buzz likely made to avoid speaking.

Just what were they facing out there that would cause such behavior?

“Victory, open a comm to the Insecticon ship,” she said, leaning over the control panel. “Insecticons, this is Invert, speaking to you from the Decepticon base The Victory. Come in Insecticons.”

Silence. 

“Come in Insecticons.”

The ping repeated itself again and again. SOS. SOS. SOS. 

No one was going to answer. Her frown deepened and she stepped away from the control panel. The only Decepticon here was her, the last on Earth, for all she knew. If they weren’t answering, they could be offline for all she knew. Or worse, it could be an Autobot trap, and she’d be playing right into their hands. 

But if it wasn’t, and someone was there on the other side, waiting for help, desperately trying to reach any other Decepticon on this planet…

Even if they were gross Insecticons…

Rescue would fall to her. And though she would be taking a huge risk, with no guarantee for results, with the possibility of capture or permanent offlining…

It was, finally, something to do. Something beyond just maintaining Victory. Something that was a real mission. Something that could get her honor, respect, and maybe even a friend!

Her frown gradually gave way to a grin. Her first real mission. Her first real rescue. Her first chance to make a decision on her own, with no one ordering her what side to choose. 

Oh, she was excited. It didn’t matter that her jet mode struggled to fly and that she’d need to pack away six cubes of additional Energon for the journey and her weapon–she was getting out, and she was going to rescue those Insecticons. 

“Victory, open the weapon’s vault,” she eagerly commanded, taking off down the hall. “And prepare the hangar for take-off.”

—------------------

“I think you’ve had enough, bud.”

He raised tired optics from the glass currently gripped like a lifeline in his servos, the pink Energon within rippling from how his arm shook. Upon the bartender, a shorter mech with a white and yellow paint job, did his gaze land. Whatever was in it seemed enough to cause them to flinch, but they held their ground, clearly experienced in dealing with the far more unruly. 

“Seriously. You’ve had five of those in the past Earth hour. How you’re not horrendously overfueled by now, I dunno, but you’re on your way to an early grave if you keep that up.” They gave him a hard frown, narrowing their optics behind their visor. “I’m not havin’ it on record that someone died at my bar because of my negligence.”

Luster didn’t answer them at first, letting his gaze drift back down to the Energon swirling in the glass he held. How it hadn’t cracked yet spoke to its quality, or perhaps how weak he’d become. Either worked. 

The glass was half-drained. It hadn’t tasted like anything in particular. He never ordered for the flavor, since anything they could provide him would be irrelevant. His glossa didn’t taste like it once must have, even if the memories of what had been felt like they existed just beyond a fog barrier. And besides, no matter how much he drank, his tank never felt full. 

Not anymore. 

He pulled up a report on his tank capacity in his hub–93% capacity. Ignoring the bartender, he brought the glass to his derma and promptly chugged, feeling his frame protest against more. Another tank report came in–100%. If he consumed anymore, he’d have to purge. 

There was still a drop at the bottom. He forced it down despite the warnings and slid the glass forward, looking just past the bartender, never at them. 

“One for the road,” he rasped, venting harshly. “Please.”

“Absolutely not. If you’re not at capacity by this point your sensor’s faulty.” They took the glass with what almost seemed like disgust. “Aren’t you supposed to be here with your guardian, anyways? Where is he?”

Guardian. He coughed at the word, not because he wanted to, but because it reminded him of what his life had become. The motion jarred the Energon inside of him and he felt sick. Swallowing down the urge to purge, Luster moved to shaky pedes, gripping the bar for support. 

“I don’t need him,” he grumbled. “I’m not a Sparkling. I’m not a protoform. I’m…I was someone, before, I don’t need a guardian.” 

The bartender grimaced. “Luster…look, buddy. I didn’t know you before the war. I can’t say I’ve ever heard of your work. I know Magnus says you did somethin’ important before the retreat from Cybertron. But all that’s in the past now, aight? This is Earth, not Cybertron, and we all know whatever it is you were lookin’ for, you…”

They paused as his cold optics finally focused on them, reconsidering their words. 

“...We all know you had some tragedy while you were out there. Real sad. No one here wouldn’t feel bad for you. But you can’t keep drinkin’ yourself to death over it. And I know you’re a grown ‘bot, but considerin’ the memory problems and all…well…course we all think you could use a guardian.”

A low rumble escaped from somewhere deep within him. Tank capacity at 99%. He needed more Energon. 

“One more for the road,” he asked again. “Please. I’ll pay you double for it.” 

Their frown tightened. “I’m calling Uptick.”

“No.” It came out harsher and faster than he intended, sounding like the warning growl of a tiger. His optics widened and he closed them, the gentle lighting of the bar suddenly too much. “Please. No. Don’t call him.”

They had their hand to their helm as they grimaced at him. Luster growled and turned away, almost falling over as he did. His balance equilibrator was off courtesy of overfueling, and focusing on what was normally a clear beeline for the door was difficult. One pede in front of the other. One pede in front of the other. 

“Luster! You’re not goin’ out alone?” The bartender called after him. He ignored them, turning down his audials to focus on walking. 

Spilling out of the bar, he stumbled for the nearest wall and rested a hand against it, leaning on it for dear life. His head was spinning. Standing was becoming increasingly difficult. 

Tank capacity at 98%. 

It wouldn’t stay there long. He needed to be back in his habsuit before that happened. Which way to his habsuit? He focused on his internal map, pulling it up in his hub and searching the coordinates. A small box lit up on Metroplex’s form, his tracking systems illustrating a path for him to take milliseconds later. 

It was late. Autobots didn’t sleep, not really, but it was likely that, due to the time of the planet, he wouldn’t run into anyone. Luster vented again, feeling warm Energon slip out from between his lips as he did so, and began the journey back to the place he was temporarily calling ‘home’. 

The path his systems had picked took him through some of Metroplex’s tighter corridors. On Cybertron, back before he had launched on the fateful mission that took his memory from him, he would have once felt nervous. Now he felt nothing, nothing besides urgency, urgency that did not originate from fear of being attacked or robbed. 

No, it was urgency that sprouted from the deepest recesses of himself, telling him to hide for his self-preservation, for if he did not, the symptoms would soon manifest, and in his present state, he didn’t know if he could take them. 

He made it about halfway before his proximity sensor went off. With his audials turned so low, he realized he hadn’t picked up the voice of whoever was calling to him, and they’d approached, their presence now close enough to seemingly reach out and touch him. 

He turned his helm, uncaring, for whoever it was could not be worse than–

Him. 

Uptick was following within grabbing distance of him, his dermas moving as he ranted on about something Luster was glad he couldn’t hear. He paused in his movement and Uptick did the same, though he didn’t once stop talking. Of course he didn’t.

Slowly, Luster turned his audials back on, just enough to make out the slew of Uptick’s commentary like the gentle, cooing sound of a cyber pigeon. 

“--and furthermore you are in direct violation of your curfew, which states you aren’t to be out beyond the Earth hour of 21:00; it is presently 01:20 and here you are wandering the passages of Metroplex like a lost turbofox!” He put both hands on his hips, glaring Luster down. “This is your second warning. You know what happens if I have to issue a third.”

He shuttered his optics and stared blankly just beyond Uptick. “You lock me up in the clinic until I’m completely fixed or I don’t function anymore?” 

“What?” He sounded incredulous. “No! I’m not here to–do you consider this some kind of torture? Luster, I’m trying to help you!” 

“Then can you leave me alone?” He grumbled, turning away and continuing on his predetermined path. “I’ll be fine…I just need to go back…”

Back to where? The habsuit? The ship? The planet of fog in his memories? Back, back. Always back. 

“You need to stop drinking,” Uptick scolded, grabbing his shoulder and bringing him to a halt. “And stop these late night wanderings. Everyone’s concerned for you because of them.”

He let his shoulders slump. 

“That’s a lie and you know it. The only ones who still care about me are the medics who want to poke my processor. Now can I please go back home?”

The buzz was starting to fade. He didn’t get that nice warmth from Energon overfueling for long anymore. Balance was restoring. And worst of all, the reports were coming in. 

Tank capacity at 95%. Fuel proficiency at 20%. Uptake at %$^&&*^# levels. Seek alternate methods of refueling. 

Uptick let out a long sigh. “Let me walk you back. There’s no point in you getting lost and scaring others again.”

He didn’t fight the offer. There was no point in it. Once Uptick was convinced of doing something, he wouldn’t stop until it was done–especially if that task regarded protecting someone else. 

So he trudged along, the ‘bot slated as his “guardian” trailing just behind him. “Guardian”. “Caretaker” was more like it. Uptick followed him everywhere, kept an eye on how much Energon he was consuming, tracked his recharge cycles, kept a close eye on just what activities he engaged with on a daily basis, and probably had a tracker installed beneath his aft to keep him from ever having an ounce of privacy. 

Of course he did, though, after that night with the other ‘bots. He knew what he had been doing and why he had been doing it. He just didn’t know why he’d stopped.

The Autobots he’d frightened were significantly less green than he was. That wouldn’t keep them safe. They’d returned to their habsuit to begin a cycle of “enjoying one another’s company”. That was why he’d picked them. Two for one. It would have made the whole situation easier on them all.

Except it hadn’t been easier on anyone, especially him. They’d both become creeped out when, upon discovering him in their personal quarters, staring at their recharge slabs with optics more devoid than a moon, he’d purged his dinner and collapsed, whining like a sick turbofox. 

That was when Uptick had been assigned as his caretaker. There wasn’t anything wrong with Uptick, by any means, and he didn’t hate him. He was, like all Enforcers, large and imposing, and tended to play by the rules too much. His paint was cheerful colors of blue, green, and white, meant to match with the new planet he was eager to call home. And his personality was surprisingly forgiving–for being the sucker stuck with the mental patient, he had quite a tolerance for nonsense.

No, Luster despised Uptick’s company for an entire other reason. One that didn’t have to do with how closely he watched him, how constantly he reminded him to attend his appointments, or how constantly he changed his curfews and rules.

It had to do with his sparkbeat. With how close he insisted on staying, Luster could hear the damnable thing’s constant pulsing despite the layers of glass and metal and wires separating them. It was loud and full of vibrant life. 

He could feel the solvent building in his mouth. 

Tank capacity at 93%. 

—-------------------------------

The habsuit allotted to him was at the very end of Metroplex’s furthest row. It was close to the wall, away from any streets or alleys. The original request put in regarding a space for him had placed him near the clinic, where other Cybertronians would be passing by. His vehement rejection of the idea had only been approved after the arguing had made him purge. 

Uptick brought him right to the sliding door, inputting the code to open it on its keypad. The metal let out a quiet shff as it slid open, revealing the small space within. He turned, giving Luster a look. 

“Your visit tomorrow is at 09:20, Earth hours. I’ve already sent you the data package. You seem to have ignored the first four.” There was a hint of annoyance in his voice as he raised a servo to his helm. “I’ll send you another. Be there on time, please, so I don’t have to come here and convince you, alright?”

“Convince”. Luster almost scoffed at the word. The heaviness that came with overfueling had left him by now. With its cloud gone, he found himself choking on bitterness again. 

Instead, he vented, giving a tiny nod. 

“Alright.” Stepping past Uptick, he paused in the threshold of his habsuit when a hand suddenly landed back on his shoulder. 

“Luster. You know these visits are for your health, right? No one here wants to hurt you. We don’t see you as a processor to be poked.” 

“I know.” He didn’t turn around. The lights in his habsuit, motion activated, had turned on, illuminating the sparse few belongings within it. 

“I mean it.” His grip tightened ever so slightly, then released. “We want to help you. All of us.” 

“I know,” he repeated. “Now please leave me alone.” 

Uptick said nothing as the door slid closed, sealing him, and the outside world, away. Luster stepped fully into his habsuit and paused, gaze fixed on the berth. 

It was a recharge slab, standard issue. They’d tried to pull a better one for him due to his circumstances–the medic’s had posited that he may have recharging terrors. They’d been right, of course, but he knew it wasn’t the fault of the slab, so he’d let it lie. They didn’t need to know about the terrors that plagued him, for they were meaningless, and besides, if they knew, they’d want to keep a closer eye on him. 

Who cared about terrors that only consisted of strange humming noises, anyways?

Besides, a closer eye was the exact opposite of what he needed on him. If they watched him more closely, they’d take him away from the bar. They’d take him away from his quiet habsuit. They’d take him away from his place at the edge of their world and draw him right into the middle. 

And if they did that, he had no idea how long he could ensure their safety. 

He stepped over to the slab, observing his reflection in it. They’d taken away the mirror after he’d shown distress staring into it. Something about his frame just didn’t feel right, and the more he looked at it, the more out of place he felt. 

His paint was blue, a gaudy blue, one with a sheen to it that made him literally shine. One of the medics had stated his color was particularly reminiscent of a bird known as the “peacock” on earth. He’d never met the thing, but from the way they’d snickered, he assumed it was excessive. 

On his chassis were diamonds, which, according to the doctors, had been placed there, willingly, by him. He couldn’t imagine why he would have ever reasoned to do such a thing. The stones weakened the integrity of his armor, and furthermore, they drew attention. Cut into varying shapes, they were arranged into delicate patterns that continued on his faceplate, where several more had been embedded just below his optics. Had been. When they found him, all that were left were the indentations of what had been. They now felt like ugly scars. 

The gemstones were gaudy enough, but worse, in his opinion, were his drills. Their blades rested comfortably on his arms, with the largest sitting on his back as a heavy extension. His treads were on his legs, which, combined with the weight of the drill, made even lifting the damnable things a chore. According to the medics he hadn’t even been a miner back in the day, but a scientist of sorts, so why he was so equipped for drilling, he couldn’t even say. 

All of this shaped up to make his frame bulky and uncomfortable. His steps were heavy. His pieces tended to bump into things. And his excessive decorations drew gazes and snickers alike from other mechs. 

He hated the face that looked back at him. The optics were green, a gaudy green, because apparently, he’d once been obsessed with fashion, and made himself a different pair of colored optics for every day of the week. The others were lost, but the green he’d been wearing when he disappeared weren’t. 

His faceplate was a pale gray, like most mechs tended to be. Pale, with those intricate, delicate etchings, designed to make him look ‘beautiful’. His helm had a sharp point in the middle, reaching about halfway down, and of course, in the middle of it was another gemstone. This one, however, was cracked. 

A cracked gemstone accompanied by diamond shaped holes that had once held something supposedly precious. That was all he saw when he looked at himself. 

He tore his optics away from the visage and sat on the berth, keeping his pedes on the floor as he turned to look at his habsuit. It had a desk, a window, a few datapads, and a small storage shelf. That was all. 

They’d offered to bring him some of his surviving “collection”, whatever that meant. He’d declined.

The ceiling lights dimmed as he tried to lay down on his back, found it impossible, and instead did so on his side. He’d never get used to the damnable drill on his back, he just knew it. It wasn’t supposed to be there. It hadn’t been there before. Why did he have a drill on his back? He couldn’t ever remember a time where he did. 

But that was the problem with remembering. He couldn’t remember much of anything. 

It had been only three Earth “months” (solar cycles?) ago that he had landed on the planet, in an unmarked spaceship that had been dated back to the middle of the war. The bots who had discovered him found his frame locked in a stasis pod, almost offline from how little power he’d had left. Taking him back to Autobot city, an emergency transfer of Energon and a strong shock to his processor had brought him back online. 

And that was when the trouble had begun. He’d awoken in a room he didn’t recognize, in a time he didn’t know, in a place he’d never been before. He still remembered coming online. For so long it had been just darkness, darkness and the very hum of the universe, the electrical pulses that dictated the existence of life, making up the entirety of his world. When he’d come online, that hum had ebbed, becoming less than background noise. 

It had felt like being cut off from a lifeline. His optics had onlined, and he had been greeted with the sight of one of the Autobot medics, First Aid. There was celebration to be had as he had groaned and tried to sit up, confused, delirious, and wondering just how he’d gotten to this strange place. They’d insisted he stay down until his energon reserves were replenished. 

But even when his tank hit its safe capacity, a feeling that should have left him satiated and energized, he hadn’t had the strength to properly move. He’d known in that very instant, as the question arose as to why, that something was wrong with him. 

Another electrical shock had returned the ability to properly move to him. They released him from the medical bay after he’d demonstrated he could walk–right into the hands of their Enforcers. For according to their records, he was not to be alone, and the question of just what had happened on his mission was hanging heavier than a spaceship in orbit. 

The issue of his memory had arisen almost immediately. They’d asked him his name. They’d asked him why he had been alone. They’d asked him what had happened. 

He couldn’t remember any of it. 

“His processor seems to have been damaged, sir.” He remembered one of them saying, looking over the scan that had been provided from the medical bay. “They’ve found evidence that a code was written to delete some memories, but even more than that…” The datapad had been handed over, and the interrogator sucked in air through his denta. “How is he even still functional, with scrambling that bad?”

It looked like his processor had been ripped out, smashed, and placed back into his helm. He had no recollection of any of it. 

“Do you remember why you left?”

“Do you remember the name of your ship?”

“Do you remember the research you’d been engaging with when you’d decided to leave?”

“Do you remember what you found?”

“Do you remember Solace?”

“Do you remember what happened to him?”

“What happened to Solace?”

Who’s Solace?

The interview had ended shortly after. 

He vented, watching the lights in the ceiling turn down. Uptick’s data package pushed at the edge of his internal hub. He accepted it because he had no other choice. 

Solace. The name haunted him like a specter. Solace. Who was Solace? Solace had been someone he’d been very close with, apparently. Solace had been someone so important to him that he’d left Cybertron with him, in search of something mysterious to help the Autobot war effort. They’d been joined at the hip all their lives, apparently, 

And he couldn’t remember a single thing about the mech. But why?

He shuttered his optics and tried to think back to the day he’d left Cybertron. It had been sometime in the middle of the war, apparently. He’d made some big decision and gotten a ship somehow. He was going to prove something, or save them all, or change the tide of the war. Something heroic, or whatever. They’d said he had once been outgoing. 

He tried to picture himself standing on Cybertron (did he even remember Cybertron?), chassis puffed out, engine revving, the diamonds on his faceplate and chest glittering. A huge smile was on his face. He stood before the ship he’d arrived on, except instead of its decrepit state, it was a fully functioning spaceship, fresh off the factory line, without a single chip on the paint. 

Before him was a crowd of Autobots. They were cheering his name. Optimus Prime himself was there to see him off. 

He looks them over and grins widely, holding his arms out. Yes, he was going to save them all. He was going to travel far away, find something, and help end the war. He would be so full of hope, nothing could dampen his spirits. 

And there, beside him, would be Solace. Solace, his best friend, his one in a billion, his greatest ally. 

But when he looks beside him, there is no Solace. 

There was only fog, and blank space, and when he looked back, the planet of Cybertron was empty, a barren wasteland of gray. The sky was dark velvet blue. Stars glittered like diamonds overhead. 

There were stars in his chassis. He blinked once, twice. The planet was empty, and he was full of stars, and he was alone. 

And here, alone, in the emptiness of space, he floated, watching all of existence fall away and turn into the hum of electromagnetic pulses indicating life. Life that he could not see or touch. Life he could only listen to as he lay dreaming, drifting through the universe alone. 

In his cradle of stars, dead $^%#%&*^&8 waits dreaming. 

Not alone, really. He had not been alone while he was dreaming. He had heard something else in the hum.

He replayed the sound again, the hum he was so familiar with. It was millions of years worth of noise, stored within his processor because he had nothing else to comprehend for all of it. 217 gigabytes of nothing but humming. His processor ran through all of it in mere minutes, then ran through it again. 

There was something beneath all of the noise, something explicitly subtle. He opened his internal hub and pulled up a spectrograph. The noise was replayed again. 

The waves showed up as nothing in particular for a long time. Then, slowly, they began to form a curve. One by one, each contributed a single line, through millions of years, until finally, he reached himself now, still intuned, just barely, to the electromagnetic pulses of life. 

The image looking back at him was in the shape of a crescent. It was the very shape which he saw in his charge terrors, the one which, ever present, hung in the background, watching him like a cybercat would a mouse. 

His spark felt cold. He closed the spectrograph and opened his optics, staring at the gentle light of Earth’s moon shining in through the window. His internal clock beeped a warning to him–five hours until he was designated to be at the clinic. A pop-up recommending he enter recharge appeared. He moved to close it.

Tank capacity at 68%. Fuel uptake at &%#$^*(&%$$%&&%$%^^^&* Seek alternate fuel source. Seek alternate fuel source. Seek alternate fuel source. 

Dozens more appeared at the death of the one. He pushed the notifications away. 

Seek alternate fuel source.

They came back, one after the other. His frame felt like it had been starved of Energon for years. 

Seek alternate fuel source. 

He forced his optics to shutter, letting the notifications drown out the fear he felt. 

Seek alternate fuel source.

It was going to be a long recharge.

[heiayen]

a/n: this is what i come back with after a month of being ia. anyway this is a part of @i23kazu event and omg ying im so sorry it took me so long 😭😭😭 the prompt was healing after an argument and i decided to write for kaveh because,,, i love him. thank you. i tried hard with this fic but good lord ive been writing for ocs only lately and i completely forgot how to write fanfics. gn!reader.

To be an artist is to sacrifice something.

Your time, your body, a part of you.

And, oh, good archons, how much it hurt you to see Kaveh like this, slouched over his desk, wasting his time on an ungrateful client, pushing himself over his limits.

"Kaveh." you started, "You can't possibly be still working."

"I promised the client to give him a revised version of the project tomorrow." The exhaustion in his voice made your heart ache, "He didn't like what I gave him previously because I didn't include all of his impossible ideas!"

"But you're the architect, shouldn't what you think matter more?"

"And he's the client. I can't just disregard what he thinks!"

"But he can disregard what you think?" You blurted out in disbelief, "Kaveh, I'm begging you, for once stop putting people above your own well-being!"

And maybe that was what tipped the scale. Maybe something you said later. Maybe it was the way guilt stirred in his heart upon noticing the sheer sadness in your eyes. It pained you to watch the blond close the doors behind him. But he didn't want to argue with you, not anymore, and you didn't want to either.

Your only worry was when he would come back home.

You stayed up as long as you could, but your eyelids started to drop shut more and more. Only the rustling of the keys and the sound of the doors made you open your eyes, with the hope to see Kaveh in the doorway.

And it was him.

Not much time passed until he walked toward the couch you were sitting on, a slight wobble in his step, and not much time passed until he sat next to you, resting his head in his hands and apologies spilling past his lips.

"Oh, my sweetheart." You tugged him to your chest, hand cradling his head and softly brushing the blond locks, "You're not at fault here. Don't apologize."

No one was, you wanted to think. There was no point in putting the blame on anyone. 

And when the morning came, you woke up on the very same couch you fell asleep with Kaveh in your embrace, but this time covered with a blanket and the mentioned man resting his hand on your shoulder, looking at you with slight hesitance on his face.

"I made you breakfast... and I want to apolo–"

"Shh," you shushed him, reaching out to cup his cheek, "No more baseless apologies, starlight."

He still looked exhausted and that made you think, just for how long he was already up? You gently swiped your thumb under his eye and a small smile tugged at your lips.

"Let's just talk instead, okay?"

He nodded and finally in a while, you felt warmth blossom in your chest.

"Okay." 

[historicalvandal]

Possible KOH fanfic??

I have noticed on my main websites I like to read on, that I can't find much Baldwin IV fanfiction, the ones I have found have been amazing, especially someones time travel story on this very app (has to be my most favourite fanfiction!) So, I, as a mentally ill girlie, have decided I shall write my own fanfiction, I have written for historical figures before on my secondary main account on Wattpad and am now taking up the mantle and waving my massive flag with Baldwin's face plastered on it all over wattpad now lmao- My old historical figures book is written badly (I swear I am a way better writer now please have faith in me I beg) I wanted to include the aspects of time travelling because I know it is popular with the Baldwin girlies, my idea mainly consists as my oc once a scientist in our own era finds herself yearning to see history as it happened, not as it was just written, so determined she starts creating a time machine, dedicating all of her time toward it, she has a breakthrough and she finishes her device, set on using it to return to a time in history she wants to know more of, and she decides she will try and time travel to the time of the russian revolution, but instead of ending up in the time of the russian revolution her machine malfunctions and breaks beyond repair, sending her back in time hundreds upon hundreds of years before her actual set year, and now she must traverse Jerusalem as another person, finding the timeline changed so that she took upon a new grander identity with a new name, family and everything apart from changes in her appearance, the timeline changes and solidifies her as the only child of Sultan Saladin and she must come to grips with the fact that she is lost in Jerusalem, far from who she recognises as her father (with memories which don't really seem those of her own in a way) Anywhosits I dunno- KOH girlies, is this a good idea?? My asks and stuff are open, unless you want to comment on this post, but please feel free to perhaps give me some pointers or like any ideas you think would make my overall idea shape up to be better in a way? I haven't wrote for Kingdom of heaven before, or for any historical figures for a long asf time, so any feedback is actually super appreciated because I'd just like for people to enjoy what I have to write haha-

[motifenjoyer]

❤️️❤️️❤️️ :3

i have multiple wips so i'll talk abt All of them

this may get long, so.

icdwd - aka i couldn't dance with death if i tried!! its a zero escape fic mostly exploring a potential (loveless) relationship between akane and mira. its abt a lot of things i realize i never rlly touched upon in my other works?? for context im aromantic and i like. Constantly talk abt it even to my allo friends esp abt the constant amatonormativity the world likes to throw at us. specfically how ppl feel pressured to be in a relationship. why? well, various reasons: to fit in, to be seen as "more mature" (aspecs tend to experience infantilization and this doubles if ur autistic), to be seen as human, bc u feel like itll make u whole, bc u dont realize theres another option!! ive always hced my favs as aro ever since i realized it, but i always used to focus on the ace part of my identity. so i never rlly got to write a fic that explores aromanticism, aside from a fic i wrote four years ago in which leorio and kurapika hxh r in a qpr

another thing is i have ocd and for that reason, i dont like to write abt sexual topics . but in this fic, ive been sorta delving into that (its literally nothing just a fade to black that immediately goes to like the character waking up in another character's bedroom) and idk i think it shows my growth in a way?? that im willing to finally write that stuff without my ocd trying to kill me??? idk its . smth

im also having a Lot of fun writing akane and miras dynamic. i think, with me hcing them as aro (akanes aroace and miras an aro lesbian), i feel itd stand out more compared to other mirakane fanworks and interpretations . like this isnt a relationship ur supposed to root for!!! its abusive, its messy, its Uncomfortable, gory, and both women have ulterior motives. idk i like writing abt two unabashedly flawed queer women and having them navigate a relationship when one has no experience while the other has experience but whose disability prevents them from connecting w others (akane has a similar struggle), idk!! its an interesting dynamic

queerpei - i like a lot of the descriptions i wrote. im so used to writing akane that its soooo weird writing in the headspace of anyone else. but junpeis introspection is fun, like he has a mind of his own... i have this experience when writing akane (im plural so. go figure) and even when writing diana

angelus custos - so im kinda in the planning stage for this one but . Wow. im so proud of myself and how far ive come with this project, and just in general?? i used to primarily be a fic writer until 2018, when i decided to dabble in making my own characters. its always been bittersweet, bc my friends (all artists, never writers) would tell me to just make ocs instead of fanfic and my 12-14 yr old self would always be upset by that. so my characters never rlly came into their own so to speak

until This Year. ive been watching this rlly awesome youtuber named local script man. he's a screenwriter but a lot of his advice can apply to writing as well. i dont remember which video it was, but he talked abt how a characters' motivations can serve as fuel for smth deeper, like an insecurity for example. which THEN can serve as a backstory. and idky but it all clicked in my head?? character work became so much easier when i applied this to my process. i no longer had trouble w coming up w things that seemed to come naturally to most. bc i Know im good at fleshing out characters, i just needed to know how to do it for original work, even tho ive had friends praise my characters in the past

but yeah thats prob the best part of the story rn . im still having trouble w what their voices would sound like, speech patterns and the like, but thatd prob come around when i actually write the damn thing lol

BtSoyT - the idea itself has me so excited!!! ive been watching some horror movies, specifically recs from my friend @zebatverse hehe, and idk i feel like ive been getting more inspo and knowing what i'd wanna do if i were to write horror . i have several other ideas besides this in my notebook but this is one i wanna write the most. i even made a moodboard for it ^_^

[plutosmainhoe]

Draco Malfoy - Birth Chart Interpretation Masterlist

Part I Part II

Part III Part IV

Part V Part VI

Part VII Part VIII

Part IX Part X

Part XI Part XII

Sun Aspects Moon Aspects

Ascendant Aspects Mercury Aspects

Venus Aspects Mars Aspects

Jupiter Aspects Saturn Aspects

Uranus Aspects Neptune Aspects

Pluto Aspects

____________________________________

G'Day!

Welcome, mates, to my Draco Malfoy Birth Chart Interpretation master post.

As I always mention, I'm no professional at this. If I'm incorrect about something, please, please, let me know. I don't want to spread misinformation.

Essentially, those who have followed along (like 3 people, but I appreciated those 3 sm) will now understand how my OC, Camila Reinherz, will fit into the HP Universe.

If ya new here, I am writing a Harry Potter based fanfiction, written in Draco Malfoy's perspective. All seven stories in Draco's perspective. I am trying my damn hardest to keep it to canon, but with not a lot given by JKR about Draco's perspective, I went crazy and made some lore.

The lore, is tied to a character/family I created, allowing Draco to have other connections away from school. You can read about the added character, here.

Writing a Draco Malfoy fanfic that is as close to canon that it can be, with added lore, is incredibly difficult when there's not a whole lot of deep information about Draco's personal life. We only see him through Harry's eyes, which is a negative perspective because of bad first impressions.

So, we analyse Draco's birth chart, instead.

Luckily, we do have Draco's birthdate; 5th June, 1980. Solid, right?

JKR didn't give us a birth time *groans in Australian*

JKR also didn't give us a birth place *curses in Australian*

I had to go searching for information, and I wasn't confident I would find I good sauce, especially considering that this decision changes everything, in a birth chart.

I found a sauce.

June 5th 1980, 15:30, London.

I believe a Libra Ascendant matches Draco most, and you will find out why when we discuss his first house.

For those who can't read a birth chart, don't worry about the above chart - I'll be going through this for a reason.

Why am I doing this? Because I refuse to enter this challenge writing the same old, tired, over-used, bad-boy character that everyone seems to have pinned him as. I want him to have proper character arc and character growth. You cannot convince me that ending up with Astoria Greengrass, a half-blood from the sacred twenty-eight, is character growth (she DIES anyway!!!).

I won't be using any photos of movie Draco throughout this series. With books, you are only given a visual through words, and that's how it will stay.

You guys have no idea how excited I have been to drop who my fanfic is centred on 😭

[asummersday]

🦋📗🤔 !

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

leo!! it's super easy and fun for me to write him because i relate to him a lot. I haven't written a lot for this fandom so I dont have a lot of other POVs to draw from, but Leo's is just the easiest one for me and I've settled very nicely into it lol.

Ive also dabbled a little with Mikey's POV and its been a lot of fun. I haven't posted that fic yet but it'll be one of my whumptober fills.

📗 Do you want to write something outside of fanfiction? If so, what about?

i do! i have two original stories in the works! one is a fantasy story i first came up with when i was 14 (it evolved A LOT since then. As in my main character now has a twin brother and is one out of five main characters). the story has ALSO changed so much. that story is on hold until i can figure out where i want the story to go and stuff. I've got 5 main characters for this one and instead of working on plot I've just been writing lore for the fantasy world and working on my ocs backstories.

ive also got another story that im much more focused on (its a lot more recent so I'm not constantly rewriting old stuff. This time I get to come up with it as I go along >:3). This one is also set in a fantasy world (tho I think I'd consider it like science fantasy?) but unlike the one above its not in a world parallel to ours etc etc. Fully its own independent world. This one is plagued with capitalism tho :(( unfortunately :(( but the world is cool!

This one is easier to tackle bc I've only got three main characters (Billie, Rosey, and Sasha) and I love them all dearly <33

My ocs for this one are more fleshed out than the world and the actual story plot ajdjfkfkf.

(I'm not at the level I'd like to be so I don't have any actual writing to show for it, just a LOT of lore lmao)

🤔 Would you ever want to write something canon if you got the opportunity?

Honestly not really? I'm very happy just writing my silly little fanfictions in my happy little corner of the fandom.

thank you for the ask!!!

Fanfic Writer Ask Game

[daenysthedreamersblog]

hello new friends!!

so ive been writing fanfics on and off since like middle school lmao (legit think i wrote an ATLA drabble once) and im interested in getting back into/writing more short stories/one-shotish type instead of longer/50+ chapter fanfics so wondering whats everyone is into these days :)

currently doing things with Snow and Aemond Targaryen (or any HoTD rly). I also used to write w Bucky and Kylo Ren. i mainly lean towards smuttier works but can avoid it depending on my mood lmao

let me know what tickles the fancy ;)

[noctfury]

*grabs my creative process by the lapels and starts shaking*

I was supposed to draw stuff today! Why the fuck are we writing instead??

[orcelito]

Casually doing all sorts of little edits to discacc chapter 1. Honestly with the level of detachment I feel to the original writing, it feels like how I'll sometimes be reading a fic & noticing mistakes or thinking about better ways things could be worded... except I can actually make those changes hdkshfjdb

Man I really did just have this original chapter 1 up for a year and a half huh. It was definitely due for some edits.

[captainderyn]

Day 9: Worries

Prompt number: 9. “There is a certain taste to it.”

Fandom: LOTRO

Rating: Gen

Warnings/Tags: N/A 

Read on AO3 or beneath the read more

--

There is a certain taste that comes with being a warrior. 

Bitter as adversaries force her hand to outcomes to the blade, sharp tangs with each wrong blow that would rip a hole in her lip anew or blood bubbling at the corners of her mouth. 

There was a certain taste to it and it was one that Raenor was not well acquainted with. In his millennia of life he had been within the spacious safety of Rivendell or the gleaming courtyards of Edhelion he had focused his eyes on the art of healing and the simple love of his music, not on grim tactics of combat outside of skirmishes and the necessity to survive. 

He’d never needed to swallow that bitterness. It had very rarely passed his lips. 

She could see it in the way his eyes widened at the disconnected certainty in which she cut down their adversaries. In the way he paled when looking at her injuries that she only spared a cursory glance to. As if she were a different creature than he in the vicious world of fighting. 

In a way, she supposed, they were. 

“Do you hate it?” she asked one day, cleaning the grime and blood off of her armor. The look she met was one of confusion. “How I fight? That I fight?” 

“Why would that bother me?” he asked, openly honest with her as ever and even though she hadn’t known what to expect, relief flowed through her. 

And yet something in her still needed to push. “Because you’re a healer, you aren’t as...as well acquainted with the business....” 

She broke off with a gasp as he moved to press a finger lightly over her lips. “Wulfwryn,” he said, raising his eyebrows at her shocked expression. “It does not bother me; you have your role and I have mine. What you found proficiency is does not make you a monster to me.” 

It shouldn’t have bothered her, she hadn’t even thought that it was on her mind. And yet the cool relief spreading through her was on the contrary as he cupped her cheek and pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

[sandayuswife]

Hiii sandayuswife! I think Im allowed to rant if youre bored😂 so Ive been thinking about this for a while because Im in Saizo simp hell and I want to write something long about him. What do you think Saizo's perfect MC would be like ? Keep thinking if I should write shadow MC instead. Idk why something ab his relationship with cook MC is ... Idk. Weird? Feel like slbp authors couldve done a better Saizo route with a better MC yk

First of all, BLESS YOU, and now that you've brought it up I have to rant a little as well haha. Yeah, the authors absolutely did kill half of the route's potential by matching Saizo with Radiance MC alone.

Dunno if it's just me, but it was rather boring to read, for following reasons. Characters like MC are useful alright - they create many conflicts and therefore emotional tension, which is literally all I want, but it just kept nagging at me how incredibly narrow MC's perspectice is. It has made the entire plot way too predictable and shallow to enjoy. Besides, what's even the purpose of a 'relatable' (she's really not) character in a route like Saizo's?💀

Well, anyway, back to your actual question. You could write a fanfic with Shadow MC if you don't want to create an OC - she'd be a good match, considering she is much smarter, more powerful, not as mentally and physically weak as Radiance MC, and 'understands the shadows'.

However, if you're thinking about creating an OC, it depends on the plot you have in mind how you should construct her - what and why you want to happen, which impact she should have on Saizo, how their relationship should influence the story etc. You could create countless MCs which are completely different, yet 'perfect' for Saizo, depending on your plot, which is why I don't think it will help you much if I just choose one example and write it down.

I really want to help, though. Could you narrow your question down a little to give me sth to work with? Or we could continue the talk in the DMs to not spoiler future readers, if you'd like :)

Greetings!

[borealiszero]

hello fellow victim of sv*ss. 😔🤝😔 if you're still craving The Book That Could've Been, may I recommend reading Pride is Not the Word You're Looking For on AO3? It's Shang Qinghua-centric and has Moshang but the focus is on found family, healing despite trauma, and the importance of every choice (no seriously, Every Choice Matters). Basically the premise is: what if SQH saves LBH's mom and...accidentally develops a family? It's very VERY good and it basically fixed the 2-year long itch I had about SV.

ANON IVE READ IT AND IT FUCKS SEVERELY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Its so good the writing is smooth characterisation is good plot is *chef kiss* it got soooooo many good points in it that makes me djgvsj)6/@;72#"???? Like I could go for hours how good thsi fic is it heals my brain my heart my soul some of my favourite things in it:

Shang qinghua just having anxiety-filled-hamster energy

Shang qinghua making choices that is good but he goes "this will save my life :)))" and just repress tf out of his feelings until later hes forced to process it like a Normal Human

LUO JIAHUI!!!! Shes so!!!!! SHE and i really like that she was portrayed as a young woman instead of old maid cause it ramps up the what the fuckery of being young mother that is CANONICALLY dead.

Baby Binghe!!!! Hes so cute like i melted when Baby Binghe was in the scene

These three forming bonds, and love each other and building their family together like God its my found family dream

Luo Fanlin like look at this girl, she goes peak hopping. She brawl train withLiu Qingge on daily basis. She calls An Ding peak lord "Da-Ge". She have no respects for authorities. Shes my dream girl. She also calls Mobei-Jun Da-Da-Ge like fkksskkdkdkkk

The romance between LJH and LQG i love it and when Lou Qing arrives i was like. You two made this. Holly shit youtwo made this.

Binghe being normal teenager with almost no trauma and having supports!!! Like HELL YEAH

The healing relationship between SQQ and YQY like yeah its not SQH place to say it but fuck. He could ve lost that chance forever

Shen Yuan's arrival???? Like bro ndjdbdnhshsn thats a good use of System, like thats a good use of props that exist in it. Making users background stick to someone else

Moshang. Enough said.

CONTINUITY!!!!! CONTINUITY EXIST!!!!! CHOICES WERE MADE AND OH BOY YOU WILL SEE THE CONSEQUENCES !!!!

The ocs are so good they weren't one time use! Have personalities!!! The HHP duo and the three disciples of An Ding are so good muah

The HHP basement arc, like BRO

The conclusion ?? Make sense???? TLJ and SXY receiving justice!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHH

LBH stating that LJH is his mother, and no one can refute that statement ever *sobs*

Okay i have to stop before this gets too long but best fanfic ive ever read. 10/10 i feel like i owe my soul to the writer. Im gonna reread it again slowly sjsjjssjsjsjsj