"3064-281-024-05 will be assisting Miss Lacey in her fabric shop. 3064-881-616-03 will go onto the cleaning crew run by Miss Amanda. 3064-703-444-07 will go…"

Today was sorting day, the day that he and the boys he had spent the past eight years with would be given a career. As their various numbers were called, he made a game out of guessing who would be given which career. On the whole, he guessed wrong. Most young boys were given fairly easy jobs; a job more used to train them than a job they would actually do for the rest of their lives.

Still, every once in a while, their future career would be obvious. There was one boy in his age group – 3064-420-240-07 – who was sent to work with the other farming slaves. His skin was dark – though skin tones varied within the colony, pale slaves who worked outside who virtually unheard of – and he had always been bigger and stronger than any of the other boys of the same age. He got into fights all the time, instead of getting along like the other boys. On top of that, he had never seen the boy shed a single tear, not even over the saddest story. It was common knowledge that slaves that acted more like the men of ages past were most often given tasks that forced them to go aboveground, while those had a full range of emotion and the ability to work well with others – or, at least those that pretended to – were given jobs that allowed them to live in the underground colony full time.

Still, everyone, male or female, working above the ground or under, was thankful for the chance to live at the colony. It was better than living in the Wastelands. People called it hell on earth. The world above ground was ruined. It was only due to the research and hard work of the women of the colony that they managed to cultivate small patches of land above the colony, but beyond the above ground walls, the Wastelands were nothing but desert, for miles and miles and miles. Beyond that were the rumored Wildlands. So few people left the colony and survived to tell the tale – only the Priestesses returning as Archivists. However, it was said that it was nothing tangled jungles and frozen mountains. Everything out there was set on killing you – the wild Pokémon were incredibly powerful, the weather was unpredictable and prone to changing at a moment's notice, and even the water was poisonous. Even worse, rogues of the worst kind came from the Wastes and the Wilds – people like Team Genome, who's only goal was to destroy the colony and murder everyone within.

"3064-188-094-02," the woman at the front of the room called. The boy perked up as he heard his number called. He had a moment of blind, naïve hope. Maybe he would be chosen to serve a high-standing woman in society! It was everything a man – or boy – could dream of, to serve a woman of rank. He had met other slaves who served women, and he, like every other boy his age, looked up to them blindly. They were incredible, almost like women themselves. Of course, he would never think to put them on the same level of women, but almost. Almost. Some were even given names of their own by their masters – a dream every man aspired to, yet few every achieved.

"You will be helping Miss Isabella in her pet store," the woman at the front of the room told him, pointing to another woman waiting to the side. He hid his disappointment by bowing to the woman – Miss Isabella - as she approached him. Young slaves never became servants – not immediately, anyways. Training in odd jobs was required first, and only older slaves who were personally picked by the woman they were going to serve ever became servants. If he ever wanted to reach such a high rank, he would need to excel at several things and put himself in the spotlight as he did it, and he was not a person who liked attention.

Isabella knelt down before him and gave him several instructions – look her in the eye, open his mouth for her to check his teeth, hold out his arms.

Finally, she seemed satisfied. "You'll do. Better than the last couple I got from the east side, at least. I'll have to make sure I request slaves from the west side from now on." He didn't respond – unless given an order or freedom to speak, slaves were only to talk when asked a question.

He didn't have to wait long. "What's your ID number?"

"3064-188-094-02, miss," he responded.

"Very well, then," she nodded, standing and turning to leave. "Follow me. I'll outline your duties as we walk."

The next few months treated him very well. There were two other boys that helped Isabella in her shop, and the three of them shared a medium-sized room in the back of the shop during the nights. They even all had their own mattresses, a luxury he had never had before. The work was not all that difficult – feed the Pokémon, clean out their cages, and occasionally venture out aboveground with Isabella so she could catch more Pokémon. Some of the larger Pokémon scared him – Isabella had a huge Noivern that made him jump every time it flew into the room – but the smaller ones were cute. He would never dream of owning one for himself – a man owning Pokémon was a great crime in the colony – but he liked the time he could spend with them. Best of all, Isabella rarely hit, and when she did, it was a quick cuff, more meant to surprise and scold him than to actually cause pain. Most women were fairly kind to slaves, and when they weren't, they always deserved it. Still, he was glad she was forgiving of his mistakes, and he did his best to please her. Yes, his life was very, very good.

If only it could have stayed that way.

One day, Isabella returned to the shop with a tiny Poochyena. "I found him curled up under a bush. I waited for several hours, but his mother didn't return. A larger Pokémon probably got to her. We'll have to bottle feed him until he's old enough to give away."

The next few days were uneventful. During the day, the Poochyena was a perfectly normal puppy – he snuggled with customers, he ate well, he jumped on anything that moved. However, at night, he began to whine and howl in the most pitiful way. Isabella told them to leave him be, that he needed to learn to be on his own, or he would learn that begging would get him his way.

A week in, he couldn't take it anymore. The Pokémon's sad whimpering was the most heartbreaking thing he had ever heard. Though he knew he was disobeying Isabella, he left the room to pull the Poochyena out of its cage.

"Why are you so sad, little guy?" he whispered to it, gently petting his soft fur as his whining quieted down to a soft whimpering. "I know new places are kind of scary, but there's nothing to be afraid of. You have a home, you have food, you have people to take care of you every day. What else could you want?"

Eventually, the Poochyena quieted completely, and his eyes started to drift close. The young boy found himself yawning as well. It wouldn't hurt to sleep here with the Pokémon, would it? No, it wouldn't. Slowly, he settled himself down to the floor, his arms wrapped around the little Pokémon, and fell asleep.

The dream he had was the nightmare to end all nightmares.

No longer was he in the safety of the underground colony. He wasn't even in the gardens and farms above the ground. The sky was black, but not like the black of night – that would have been comforting in comparison. This was the black of looking into a bottomless abyss the moment before you are pushed. The ground was bone white and cracked, and a gray dust blew along in a breeze that smelled of death.

"H-hello?" he called, his voice trembling. Instead of echoing or carrying, his words were swallowed up by the silence of the place. His heart rate skyrocketed, and his hands began to shake. He hated this place, this monochrome desert. He wanted to get out of here.

In the distance, he spotted a blotch of color that broke the terrifying monotony of the place. He headed towards it – anywhere was better than this.

Why couldn't he have just curled up and waited for the dream to end?

The strange color turned out to be a tree, but it was a tree unlike any he had ever seen anymore. The trunk and the gnarled roots leading up to the tree were a pale light gray, and the leaves were yellow, like old paper, or nails that hadn't been cleaned in a long time. Was the tree dying? It would make sense, in a Waste-like place such as this. However, red flowers by the thousands grew on its branches, huddled among the wrinkled leave. Crimson petals shook free every time that awful breeze blew through the branches, the only thing if beauty in this entire place.

Well, look who finally decided to show his face. Took you long enough, too.

He jumped at the words echoed through the place in a way his voice could not. Or maybe the words were inside his head? Either way, the voice had a hissing, rasping quality that scared him, like water boiling over and evaporating on the stove.

"W-Who said that? Sh-show yourself!"

I'm right here, stupid child.

"I can't see you. Where are you?"

You idiot. Why do people put so much stock in sight? One cannot see the wind, but that does not mean it doesn't exist.

The voice paused, and then heaved a great sigh, like the wind whistling through a deserted corridor. Look closer, O Dull One. You'll find me.

However, he could not find what the voice wanted him to look closer at. There was nothing to look at in this place besides the strange tree. Still, there was something strange about the tree. Or the petals falling from the flowers, to be specific. Something about the way the petals fell was…off. They didn't dance in the breeze the way they were supposed to, and instead fell straight down, is if they were too heavy.

Then, with a start, he realized they weren't petals. The flowers were bleeding, drizzling scarlet drops into pools collecting in between the roots.

With a gasp, he turned tail and ran. He didn't care what the tree was, or who was behind the voice, or what they wanted; he wanted nothing to do with any of it. He just wanted to get out of this awful place.

Running won't help, you know! the voice cackled, and the world burst into flames around him, despite the fact that there was no vegetation to feed the fire.

I've been here the entire time, the voice hissed as he desperately tried to find a way to escape the flames all around him. Do you think fleeing will help you escape? How do you expect to outrun me when I'm already here?

Not caring about the fire anymore, he ran straight through, ignoring the flames licking at his skin. He could hear shriek behind him and a sound like flapping wings, and a set of claws sunk into his shoulders and back –

Suddenly, he jolted awake.

A dream. It was all just a bad dream. Thank the Goddess.

Something was off, though. He was laying on the ground in the middle of the shop – that was right, he had fallen asleep here last night. The lights had turned on, signifying daytime and Isabella's imminent arrival. But where was the Poochyena?

With a look of horror on his face, he raised his head to survey the shop. Small scratches covered the floor and parts of the walls, and bits of fluffy cotton were scattered here and there. There was a suspicious-looking puddle of yellow in one corner.

And there, up on the desk, was the Poochyena, tearing one of Isabella's files apart.

"What, no, stop!" he cried, then stopped in his tracks when the bell attached to the door rang. He froze, then slowly turned.

There, standing shell-shocked in the door, was Isabella. For a moment, she stood immobile, just staring at the damage to her shop.

Then, her mouth hardened, and she strode forward. He didn't see the blow coming, but he felt the hard crack of her palm upon his cheek, and the burning sting that came afterwards.

For a moment, she just glared at him, and he stared at her in shock, trying not to let tears gather in his eyes. A red imprint of her hand was left on his face – it might even bruise.

Then, Isabella let out a frustrated sigh. "I'll go find the supplies to clean all this up. I'll figure out what to do with you later," she said as she left the store once more.

The boy dropped to his knees, still shocked from the slap. He gently rested his hand on his cheek.

Why do you let her do that? Suddenly, a voice whispered.

"H-huh?"

Why did you let her hit you?

"I made a mistake. It's only right," he whispered, shakily getting to his feet.

If I were you, I would have fought back.

"Why would I do that?"

So she wouldn't hurt me. I'd take those scissors on the desk and plunge them into her body until she stopped breathing.

Suddenly, his eyes were drawn to the silvery glint of those same scissors.

Do it.

"N-No. That wouldn't be right."

DO IT.

"No! Stop! She's so nice to me, I don't want to hurt her!"

DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT KILL HER KILL HER KILL HER KILL HER END HER LIFE STAB HER UNTIL SHE STOPS BREATHING KILL HER KILL HER END HER DO IT

When Isabella returned, she found him curled up in a ball on the floor, clutching his head, and screaming.

He didn't even flinch when the Doctor pushed the needle into the crook of his elbow. It was nothing more than a little pinch, nothing like the slap he had received earlier today.

The Doctor pressed a cotton swab to his arm once she had three vials of blood. "This shouldn't take more than a couple of minutes," she told them.

True to her word, the Doctor was back several minutes later. "Do you have a diagnoses?" Isabella asked.

"I do," she replied. "I had a guess beforehand; and his bloodwork conforms it. He's schizophrenic."

After a moment of silence, the doctor continued on. "I'm glad you brought him in. Many people will just leave their slaves on their own with such a condition, which doesn't help at all. Their personalities break down even further, until they became useless to society. As long as he takes his medication, he should still grow up to be an asset to the colony. However, it is my opinion – and that of the other Doctors here – that the pet store is not the best environment for his recovery. He'll have to be reassigned. I'm sure you can find another slave just as useful as he was."

"I'm sure I can," Isabella said as she walked out of the room without so much as a wave in his direction. He never saw her again.

The Doctor bustled around the room, pulling out a syringe and filling it with a clear liquid from a bottle off of one of the shelves. "I'm giving you an injection this time, because it'll have a more immediate effect," she told him as she pushed the needle into his arm. "This should last you about three days. After that, you'll need to get medication from a pharmacy," she said as she scanned the code with his ID number on his bracelet, then typed a few things into the computer to her night. "I just gave you access to the medication. All you have to do is go to the pharmacy, scan your bracelet, and they'll give you a bottle with the medication in it. Take two pills in the morning and two in the evening, about twelve hours apart, if you can manage it. If you do that, you shouldn't have any more problems. You'll be reassigned in a couple of days; until then, you'll be staying here so we can keep an eye on you."

She smiled as she turned back to him. "Do you have any questions? I'm certainly capable of answering them."

He wasn't smiling, though. Instead, fat tears dripped from his gray eyes. It had been a long, stressful day, and suddenly it just seemed too much for the eight-year-old. "Why?" he whispered. "Why did this have to happen to me?"

The Doctor frowned, and settled a hand on his shoulder. "Unfortunately, genetics isn't an exact science yet. Doctors like myself always do their best to generate the most favorable genetic matches when creating the next generation, but there is some randomness that must be accounted for. One in a thousand times, things don't go the way we expect them to."

"But if it's only one in a thousand times, why me? There were nine hundred ninety nine other children to pick from!" he sobbed.

The Doctor sighed. "For the answer to that, you'd have to ask a Priestess."

Leah smiled at the girl beside her. She really did think she was pretty. Ivy had straight, dark brown hair that somehow always managed to stay sleek and soft. Her eyes a sharp, intelligent gray. Though she had heard a couple of girls say that they were perpetually glaring, to Leah, they were protective, watchful, kind. She reached over to intertwine their fingers in the grass they were laying in.

"Ivy, I have to admit, I'm kind of nervous about tomorrow," she told her. Maybe she would be able to give her some advice. Ivy was two years older than her, though she wasn't sure if she was already training for a career. She would have assumed that she did – all girls got careers at Leah's age, eight years old, and Ivy was already ten. Yet Ivy was in her class, which was divided by age group, and she was older. Leah remembered the first day she had walked into class, and the Caretaker said she was going to stay with them for a while, something that had never happened before. It just wasn't normal.

Of course, nothing was ever normal around Ivy, especially not the butterflies she set off in Leah's stomach.

"You're nervous?" Ivy laughed, turned over onto her side to twirl Leah's honey blonde hair around one of her fingers. Leah loved to see the contrast between her fair hair and Ivy's olive skin. "You, the one who volunteered to spend the night in the haunted corridor on the south side? I thought you were fearless!"

"I am scared of some things, you know," Leah giggled.

"Like what?" Ivy smiled. "Really, Leah, you've already taken all your preliminary tests. All you need is the psychological exam. It's just to get a read on your personality, and the Doctors are all really nice, I promise."

"It's not the tests themselves I'm worried about. It's finding out my career," she whispered. "I know, all jobs are equal, everything needs to be done. The right tool for the right job, right? But…but what if they want me to be an Overseer or something?"

For a moment, Ivy just stared at her. Then, she rolled over onto her back and howled with laughter.

Leah huffed. "I'm really scared over here! Don't laugh at me."

Eventually, Ivy was able to control her chuckles. "Leah, out of everyone in the class, you are probably the least likely to become an overseer. You're intelligent, you're nurturing, you're gentle. Only the most masculine of women become Overseer," she sneered, "and those are the opposite of masculine."

Now Leah was smiling. "I guess so. You're right, I shouldn't be worried. They're really careful when they pick careers, aren't they? They try to give you a job you'll be happy in." She glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting over the high walls surrounding the garden. Soon it would be nighttime. "We should probably be getting back," Leah sighed. "I have one of the earlier appointments, I'd like to get a good night's sleep beforehand," she said as she stood, brushing the grass off of her clothes.

"Leah, wait," Ivy stopped her from leaving, standing as well. "There's a reason I called you out here today. I have to leave tomorrow."

"What? No! Why?" Leah didn't want her to leave. It had only been a year, she didn't want to lose Ivy!

"I just do," Ivy told her. "But I really want to know what your career is. Can we try to meet up outside your room after you find out? Then we can say our goodbyes too."

"Okay," Leah nodded. She moved forward and kissed Ivy on the cheek, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug.

"Hey, don't act like this is goodbye!" Ivy laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

Leah nodded. "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow!"

Leah walked to the Doctor's office the next morning in an excellent mood. Last night had been full of good dreams, though she didn't quite remember what they were about. All she knew was that they left her with a warm, light, happy feeling the next morning.

The resident psychologist smiled as she opened the door to find Leah. "Hello. 3064-188-094-01, right? Do you have a name you go by?"

"Yes, I'm Leah," she told her. "I'm here for my psychological exam?"

"I'll be ready for you in a few minutes," she told her. "I'm just finishing up with one of my patients. Can you stay in the waiting room for a while? You can play with Marie, if you want," she suggested, pointing to a Skiddo napping in the corner.

"Thank you very much, I think I'll do just that," she told the Doctor as she closed the door. She walked over to the Skiddo and scratched behind its ears, giggling as its sleepy eyes opened up and she pressed her head up into her hand, almost as if to say, Why did you wake me u-ooohhh, keep scratching behind my ears like that, it feels fantastic.

Leah giggled and reached around to scratch under her chin as well, though Marie leaped to her feet at that and wiggled away, like she was saying, No, no, I'm ticklish there!

Leah laughed. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to!"

The Skiddo promptly turned her back to her and sat down, as if to say, I don't care anymore, leave me be.

"Oh, don't be like that," Leah sighed, wrapping her arms around the Pokémon's neck. "I didn't mean to tickle you."

That was when she noticed the two adults standing in the door. "Leah, who are you talking to?" the Doctor asked, a strange expression on her face.

"Marie, of course," Leah responded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The Doctor looked at the woman next to her. "You don't think…?"

"You're probably right," the other woman replied. She had wavy, golden hair pulled over her shoulder in a braid and kind, green eyes. "Why don't you run a test to find out?"

The Doctor walked back into her office and returned with a syringe and a couple of vials. "Okay, Leah, we just need to draw a couple of vials of blood."

As soon as Leah saw the needle, though she panicked and began to cry. "Please don't give me a shot. I hate shots!" she sobbed.

"No, no, it's just a little prick, it's not that bad," the Doctor soothed as she tried to grab her arm, but Leah resisted. She threw both of her arms around a shocked, still ruffled Marie and began to bawl in earnest.

The other woman stopped the Doctor as she went to go grab Leah again. "It's pretty upsetting to see her like this, isn't it?" she asked. "The Doctors keep files of amniotic fluid, right? Can you run the test with that?"

"I can," the Doctor said, "But it might take several hours to find it and run the tests needed. Blood work could be completed in a matter of minutes."

"Would you rather do that or deal with her like this?"

The Doctor took one look at the still screeching Leah, then went to find a phone to call to find Leah's amniotic fluid.

When she returned, she wordlessly handed a file to the strange woman, then knelt down before Leah, who was still whimpering and hiding behind Marie. "I'm not going to subject you to anymore needles," she promised, "But I need Marie back. Make yourself comfortable, you're going to be here for a while." She returned Marie to a Pokéball, then walked back into her office.

Leah slowly dried her eyes, then glanced shyly up at the strange woman. She had settled herself on a couch, and had the file laid out on the coffee table in front of her, glancing over the papers within. When she noticed Leah looking at her through the tears on her lashes, she smiled kindly and patted the seat next to her, and invitation.

Warily, Leah sat down beside her. "What were you guys talking about?" she asked.

"I'll answer that, if you answer one of my questions. How long have you been able to talk to Pokémon?"

"Huh?" Leah stared at her. "I was just playing pretend with Marie. I pretended I knew what she was saying based on how she was acting."

"Yes, that. How long have you been doing that?"

"I don't know," Leah shrugged. "A few years? It's just a game. Some Pokémon are easier to read than others. I wasn't really talking to her."

"Or were you?" the woman asked. "The talent often manifests itself in strange ways, and takes training to master. I do think you can talk to Pokémon. My name is Archivist Annabelle, and I have the talent. You were responding as if you were talking directly to Marie. Leah, I think you're a Priestess, and your file only confirms it," she told her, indicating the papers spread out in front of her.

Priestess? Archivist? Leah had heard of those before – women who had the ability to talk to Pokémon, who worshipped the Goddess, who provided guidance to the lost, who battled the evil Team Genome.

"Archivist…" she whispered. "You've been outside the colony? What are the Wastelands like? What about the Wildlands? What legendary pokemon did you catch?"

Annabelle laughed. "So curious, aren't you? I caught a Virizion. Unfortunately, Archivists are forbidden from talking about the trials with anyone buy other Archivists. However," she leaned in and glanced around conspiratorially, as if she were about to tell Leah a big secret, "If you become a Priestess, you might one day become an Archivist and find out for yourself."

Leah's eyes went wide. "Really?" The idea of the Wastes and the Wilds scared her – anyone who wasn't scared of them was either stupid or crazy – but that didn't mean she wasn't curious. "Will…will you tell me about being a Priestess, then? What it's like?"

"I'll do better than that. How about I tell you the story of the Goddess?"

So Leah spent the next several hours hearing stories from Archivist Annabella. She learned about the random chaos that existed before creation, and the Earth-Mother's birth from it. She learned of her attempt to create another perfect being out of chaos, but all she could create was Sky-Father. She learned of how distraught she was by her own failure, and how she cast Sky-Father away from her in her distress. She learned of how the Goddess began to create from herself – her body became the earth, her tears became rivers and oceans, her eyes the sun and moon, so she could always keep an eye on Sky-Father's many failings, and each drop of her blood became a pokemon. She learned how she began to use portions of her spirit to create women, but was unable to complete them, and was forced to finish them with a portion of the Sky-Father's spirit, thus creating the inferior race of men. She learned of how she split the last bit of her spirit into pieces, and they became legendary pokemon, and the Archivist's ultimate goal of collecting all the legendary pokemon so they might revive the Earth-Mother.

Finally, hours later, the Doctor returned. Leah held her breath and hoped. If, after all this, she didn't turn out to be a Priestess, she didn't know what she'd do. She silently handed an envelope to Archivist Annabelle, who opened it and read the contents before turning to Leah.

"Congratulations, Leah. Welcome to the Holy Order of the Goddess."

"Ivy! Ivy!" Leah screamed as she ran down the halls toward her room. She couldn't wait to tell her!

However, no one was waiting for Leah outside her door. Leah slowed down from her mad sprint as she approached her door and realized Ivy wasn't there. The only thing there was a letter and a Pokéball.

Leah picked up the letter, opened it up, and read it.

Leah –

I'm sorry. I waited for a long time, but you didn't come back. Don't be upset, sometimes these things take longer than usual!

I have to go now. It's time for me to leave. You don't need to worry, though. I'm going to come visit you sometime, and see how your training is going.

Until then, I want you to hold onto Rollo. That way, you'll have something to remember me by.

See you soon,

Ivy

Leah felt tears gather at the corners of her eyes. Tomorrow, she would be leaving for the Center, where the Goddess' temple was. Ivy wouldn't be able to find her. With shaky hands, she grabbed the Pokéball next to the letter and pressed the button in the center. In a burst of red light, Ivy's Burmy, Rollo, appeared. It gave a trill in greeting.

Leah wrapped her arms around him and began to cry.

A/N: Welcome to my new story! If you haven't figured it out by now, it's a dystopian, post-apocolyptic AU where women rule supreme. A quick comment before I launch into things like OC submissions - I know someone out there is going to leave a scathing, highly misinformed review, wondering why I hate men and why I'm such a misandrist. Well, listen up - An author doesn't believe everything they write. I don't think men should be slaves, I don't believe in all the sexist comments going on in this story. The point of the society is to take every sexist problem in today's society, reverse it, and make it extreme. Oh, women are too sensitive to do _? Not according to the women here - to them, men aren't emotional enough and are therefore lacking and not complete beings. Point is, just because I write these sexist things doesn't mean I believe them.

Actually, this is going to be my story for NaNoWriMo! I would appreciate lots of support and nice messages and stuff to keep me writing. I'll start writing the next chapter on November 1st. Check out my post in the discussion thread for more information.

As for OCs, I need all kinds! I need both men and women within the colony, men and women in Team Genome, and men and women not affiliated with either. There are rules in the OC Submission thread, please read them all before submitting. I know one thing I absolutely need is a Priestess friend or two for Leah, but please, please, please, let's not have every girl be a Priestess. Otherwise, there's nothing else I really, really need for next chapter. I do need more Team Genome characters eventually, though. One thing I will ask, though, is that I don't get a whole bunch of women in the colony who think men are equal. I need people who are the baseline, not outliers. To be honest, baseline characters will probably be more likely to be picked than characters who really stretch my rules without permission. Just because they're normal within the context of the society doesn't mean they're not interesting! Also, feel free to submit as many characters you want, whether it's one or ten. I can't use everyone, after all. However, characters that are well-thought out, more in-depth, will be more likely to be picked. Also, if you want your character to show up by the next chapter, it needs to be submitted by November 1st, 11 AM PST. Otherwise, OC submissions never close, feel free to submit one six chapters in, or add one in you just came up with later on!

The Discussion Thread and the OC Submission thread can both be found at the bottom of my profile. Please submit OCs to the thread, unless you are an anonymous reader, in which case, if you absolutely have to, you can submit via review, as long as you use the form and follow all the rules.

I look forward to seeing all your characters! Thanks for reading and please review!

~Ami