Like. Once upon a time, there was a boy. He's 10. His parents are dead. They died 6 years ago in a boating accident, and their son doesn't remember as well as he thinks he should. But it's ok, because he has his grandfather. Then he finds out his grandfather is dying, and he clings so desperately to hope an immortal magician can save him... All the while, his grand-aunt hates him so much that she kicks him out of the house. A literal 10 year old kid is thrown out.

And through some way or other, things work out to be ok.

Then BHAM! You get the sequel. Months have passed. The boy is growing up in a different place, and he tries to fit in, surrounded by people that seem difficult to relate to. And he slowly learns to love people. He meets someone of the past. He still has lots of growing to do, but it's ok, because he has his friend and family by his side, and in a year he learns to love someone that he never thought would ever love him like a family would.

And then, there's another story. But there's two people this time. A twelve year old boy and a girl. The boy's father is a racecar driver, and he dumps him on the doorstep of his grandmother's house in the dead of the night to race. The boy doesn't tell his father he feels like a failure. He feels like there's a gap between his father and him, and he calls him every day but never receives an answer. He dodges remarks from his relatives about his fate.

And the girl. She's just moved to a new town, in the middle of nowhere, with no way to reach her goal, and she fervently searches for ways to go back to her old life. She fights and she bickers with her mum, all the while trying to help her new friend to find a way to change his fate. Because she tries her best even if it may never work out.

And these two try their best. Things may never work out for either of them. Destiny decides their fates, but even so... They almost get blinded by tiddlywinks and race past mailboxes and swim through a swamp just for the mere chance to change what they've always been told: That their destiny is set in stone. That they shouldn't mess with the same magic their ancestors dipped their hands in, the same people that cursed generations of their children to come. But even still, they try.

Give me tales about people trying their best, give me tales about children that cling with guilt to papers and pencils because of untold memories about people that aren't here to haunt the house anymore, because the house is no longer here. Tell me stories of children they bitterly resent their destiny and would rather scream and race in shoes too dirty for them to wear but fits just right for a dash to the edge of town. Write me the truth about losing family in ways you never thought possible, and then healing with friends and newfound family you'd never thought you'd meet.

Show me villains that aren't villains at all. They're just a part of the grand scheme of things, there to observe and facilitate what they were there to do. Let them be surprised. Let them hiss and hesitate with disbelief. Then show me some that are selfish. Show me villains that deserve every bit of hate they receive because of decisions they made that ruined lives. Show me despicable villains that would throw their young sister-in-law off the roof to get rid of her.

Chapter 4 of Lae Noux Soqui has been updated ^^

Excerpt:

The young scout took a few seconds to understand the doctor’s words. He shut his optics, both servos clutching onto Ratchet’s arm, as thought he didn’t trust himself to stand by himself “𝙸𝚝'𝚜… 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚣𝚢. 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜.”

Optimus walked nearer to the pair, his optics moving down to scan the scout head-to-pede. His bright yellow exoskeleton was buffed back to normal, not a single bullet cavity on his armour. But his pedes trembled under his own weight. He clung onto Ratchet, the doctor leaned over in concern with the additional weight pulling him down.

“Recharge won’t be making you topple over like this.” Ratchet chided. He carefully supported him to the medical bay’s berth. Immediately, he fleeted across the room to grab an Energon cube, firmly placing the fuel in Bumblebee’s servos. It was unopened.

The yellow scout only stared at the cube in hand with vacant optics. He absentmindedly thumbed the edges of the cube, his mind somewhere else. Ratchet’s optic twitched.

“You need to refuel. Your systems are weak from the lack of it.” He jabbed a digit at the cube, before moving it to point at Bumblebee himself.