#He looks so similar to Prowl with his Angry face

[sweetcrescent]

sneakpeak of young Medical Student Pharma for the next short comic I’m currently drawing ( Also being pretty while mentally unstable is pretty much a norm for all Cybertronian jets. fight me )

#pharma #transformers #mtmte #maccadam #transformers idw #sobs #He looks so similar to Prowl with his Angry face

[ask-dcf]

*There is silence… in the air… Frisk looks absolutely horrified…*

*Frisk has the face of absolute trauma and fear… as this almost sounds similar to their life before they met Data… While Chara stares… and looks ready to burst*

*She gets up*

*Before she could continue they spoke once again*

”Once upon a time. There was a colony of cats. They lived in a cave. All of them black and not allowed to be apart of society. They hunted anything from bugs to tiny animals. They were so many that they even hunted bulls and humans. The worse offense, was they ate their own kind. These black cats were the most hated creatures. But they lived in a society where they believed they were above the rules of Mother Nature. One day. A gentle kitten born from this colony who’s as destined to lead this clan, was quite a coward. And so she ran from her cave. She ran and ran and fell off a cliff. When she came to she found herself on a farm. A baby goat found her and brought her to his herd. The goat herd did not know of the evil cats and lived in peace. So they took her in as their own. They taught her to leap, they taught her to bump heads, and taught her to play. However, the cat only ate grass… and she could not live off it. A hunger grew inside her, foam frothed at her mouth. She tricked the goat who saved her to go on a hill. And tell him she was dying of hunger. She said that if he let her eat him, they would be together forever. The baby goat naively believed her. And as she ate the goat, she cried out in anguish. As this hunger she blamed on her own kind. And so. She went back to her colony. And began killing every cat in the cave. The males, females, kits, even the unborn from the females in labor. The more she killed the bigger she became. Until there was no cat left. She couldn’t be satisfied. She hated them. She hated herself. And she hated the world. She left the cave in hopes the herd would take her in. But when she came back. The herd was all but dead. As the baby goat they had held a cure to a disease they had. That the farmer who tended the land was preparing. The cat now finally realized that she was cursed. Everything she touched did nothing but destroy. And so she lost herself in her anger and hate. She prowled the farm. Eating some mice she found. One of which fell in front of her. She did not care. She ate. She killed. It was all she knew now. Until a loud bang was heard upon the farm. The cursed kitten was shot. By the farmer. And so she was buried. But it is said that she still prowls on the farm. Hunting and eating. Because for her…. It was now fun to her…. Because she knew what she did… was for LOVE.”

*Chara stares. With her eye twitching*

*She looks up in horror realizing she may be next*

*Meanwhile Chara grits her teeth and her wings turn sharp like knives again. Her claws come out slowly as she scrapes the ground with them in an angry grip*

*she slashes at the two eggs but they turn to fog and reappear in the air, looking a bit different, as if puppets dangling by strings*

“There was a baby rabbit. Who was left on the porch of a human family. The mother was sick and was dying. So she left her there all alone in the rain. The humans took her in. But they had many other pets who were mean. And the children handled the pets poorly. The snake would choke the rabbit. The hamster would bite the rabbit. And the chicken would peck at the rabbit. The human kids were not smart when it came to handling the baby rabbit. Holding her by the ears. Tossing her around. And dressing her up clothing that was too tight around her. One day the family bought a goat. The rabbit was treated fairly by the goat. And so the rabbit believed foolishly that he was her father. For she did not know what love was until this goat took care of her. However. One day… the goat disappeared. As he was sold off to a farm. Leaving the rabbit all alone. The rabbit soon died as she was thrown at a wall by one of the human parents in a drunken fit of rage. The baby rabbit died crying out for her fake father to come find her. Only to never see him again. As he had died during an accident at the farm. He grew sick as the rabbits mother did. As the disease took them both. In the end. The rabbit was reunited with her mother and father. In the beyond of the void.”

*Alice couldn't quite understand it, but the story hit her personally. The way it was worded… It struck a nerve. She could feel tears streaming down her face as she absorbed the story, trying to process it all. Alice soon broke down into a heaping, sobbing mess on the ground, clutching her head. She couldn't understand why the story was effecting her this way.*

*These stories… Were clearly… about our young heroes…*

#undertale #datatale #datatale au #datatale lore #deltarune #frisk #chara #charisk #alice #ask blog #ask dcf #ch 3 #darkner #dark world #tweedles #darkerland arc

[achaotichuman]

Angsty thought but like imagine Rhysand and Tamlin got into one of their fights during a ballroom, Tamlin storming out with rhysand following him.

Both of them angry and sad because of what happened, Rhysand angry at Tamlin's nonchalance and how "stone-faced" he was about the whole debacle. Tamlin angry at Rhys when he made a comment that maybe Tamlin really was like his father.

So Tamlin pissed off and was so hurt by this male who was his first best friend whirls around Rhysand and instead of Tamlin's face, Rhysand was looking directly at His sisters face and Rhysand's sister (Tam who shapeshifted) sneered and said "Maybe you really are like your father, considering you couldn't even save your own mother and sister"

A bit more angsty and dramatic then my usual asks but I was watching Scandal and I thought of this prompt to my two toxic love-birds :3

My first reaction to this was a violent gasp, because yes, this is very good. Very dramatic, very angsty, all things I love. Here's how I think that scene would go.

It was supposed to be a routine get-together, the Courts of Prythian coming together for one night. The Courts were far to separate and to maintain peace two things would take place every decade on a solstice. One, the High lords would gather for a meeting, it was a rare occasion that didn't end in someone storming out, and something getting thrown. Tamlin had to admit he found them amusing. Second, the people of each Court would gather for a large celebration, one Court was chosen each year, there they would open their borders to all who wished to attend, and a large celebration would be thrown.

No one admitted it, but everyone knew, these celebrations had simply turned into a way for the High lords to one up each other. Who had to most money to spend? Who had the most lavish taste?

It was a dick measuring contest, and Tamlin hated it. But had to go anyway, next decade would be his turn to host. That was going to be a nightmare and a half, Andras and Alis were somehow already excited for it, those two loved a good celebration. They especially loved the drama it would cause.

The meeting had gone as smoothly as one could hope for. Poor Nostrus was the one to host this year, the meeting and the celebration were to take place in Adriata. The office Nostrus had led the High lords too once they arrived was perfectly decorated, but quite empty. Only the table and chairs. the edges of the room were gilded with gems and gold, and a large balcony overlooked the sea. Nothing else though. Nostrus had most likely been thinking off the last meeting, that one Tamlin had attended as Prince. Someone had thrown something made of glass, it had shattered all over the floor, a shard nicking Tamlin in the arm.

Even still, the lack of anything to throw did not stop the arguments from pouring out. Tamlin didn't have enough fingers to count how many times he rolled his eyes, or loosened a sigh.

All entertainment from watching six grown men snapping at each other's throats was drowned the second he walked in.

Rhysand was fashionably late, as he always is. He waltzed in, the doors slamming open to reveal his clouds of darkness. His two Illyrian dogs prowling behind him. Rhysand gave some half-assed excuse as to why he was late that everyone had to suppress the urge to roll their eyes at. Rhysand had only been in power a few years, as had Tamlin. Yet he acted as though he had been ruling for centuries.

When they sat down, Rhysand scanned the room, watching everyone like a predator waiting for the perfect time to bite. Finally, he looked over at Tamlin, and that natural predator's glare turned hungry, like he'd spotted a lone deer in a clearing. Tamlin fought the urge to curl into himself, he held Rhysand's gaze with what he hoped was a similar intensity. Those his eyes could only muster hatred, Rhysand's was filled with loathing and lust. When Cassian and Azriel turned their eyes to lock into Tamlin, the Spring Lord slowly and pointedly looked at the Shadowsinger, then the General and back to Rhysand. Tamlin then huffed a laugh and threw them a smirk before turning away.

Tamlin could feel the seething rage coming off of Rhysand in waves even if he was looking away. Tamlin was his chosen target of the night, and damn him to terrors in Hell, but the part of Tamlin that still belonged to his past couldn't wait to see what the Night Lord had in stall for him.

Soon night fell and the Summer Court was in a buzz. Tamlin was led into a large ballroom. Covered in gold and splendor. The sounds of the ocean crashing outside seemed to blend into the music, creating a symphony of nature and man-made creation. The second the notes hit his ears Tamlin closed his eyes for a moment, almost beginning to sway to it. A pinch from Andras had him snapping back to the present. His sentry shot him a look and Tamlin just raised an eyebrow, discreetly flipping him off before striding away from his friend.

Tamlin found a nice corner, where he was away from everybody, and could simply lean against the wall, close his eyes and tap his fingers in time to the music.

His peace lasted for a total of thirty seconds. Then a cold chill spread across his skin, a chill he wanted to forget but his body remembered. Tamlin didn't have to open his eyes to know Rhysand was standing close to him. Rhysand didn't need to speak to know Tamlin knew he was there. Still, Tamlin refused to be the first to talk.

They stayed standing there for a half hour, some secret challenge between them. Who would break the silence first? Tamlin tried to ignore Rhysand's lingering presence, but he couldn't enjoy the music knowing that darkness was swirling so close to him.

Tamlin had never been made to play these games. Finally, he opened his eyes and turned to face Rhysand, lip pulled back into a snarl, "What do you want?"

Rhysand's face split into a grin. Ecstatic that Tamlin had been the first to break.

"I wanted to know why the High lord of Spring, is not enjoying the festivities with his people, I thought you of all people would not consider yourself above the commoners?" Rhysand emphasized 'High lord' he knew Tamlin did not want this crown. He loved picking at that, making him feel even more unworthy than what he already was, but never letting him forget that he could never be normal like he so desperately wanted to be.

Tamlin didn't entertain his outright ridiculas question. He simply looked back towards the people of Prythian, mingling, dancing and talking to one another.

Rhysand hated when Tamlin could be more carefree and silent than him. It showed when Rhysand stepped closer, invading his space, crowding around him that forced Tamlin to remember how Rhysand, despite only being a few inches taller than Tamlin, could seem like he was twice his size.

"I've heard the little fox has been prancing around your Court, have you found another so quickly my love?" Rhysand snarled in his ear. Tamlin hated those even more than the comment before it. He hated thinking about what they were. What had happened.

"Answer me, darling." Rhysand hissed.

"Lucien is my friend, Rhysand." Tamlin said, his voice calm and level, unlike Rhysand's.

The bat opened and closed his mouth, face confused, then turning to anger. Hatred reeling in his eyes, Rhysand had always hated when Tamlin could be level and cool. Hated when his venomous words didn't drive him up the wall.

"Friend, lover, whore, who draws the lines." Rhysand shrugged, those damning smirk adorning his face.

"I do, and we have no relations beyond friendship." He was friends with Lucien, had been for a long time now. Since taking on the crown, Lucien along with Jesminda had shown up for him more than ever. He was his friend, a better friend than Rhysand had ever been, it had taken Tamlin far too long to realize that.

"The bounds of friendship stretch, Little Lord of Spring, we would know that wouldn't we?" Rhysand trailed a finger down Tamlin's arm. If Tamlin didn't know Rhysand as well as he did, he would've snapped, perhaps hurt the male horribly. But as it were, Tamlin could have laughed, Rhysand was getting desperate for a reaction.

"We wouldn't know that." Tamlin murmured.

Rhysand went predatorially still, a wolf sitting back on its hunches, preparing to strike. Tamlin remembered the power that had filled Rosehall as two High lords came into power. And the way Rhysand had gone so still. Tamlin couldn't help the fear that leapt up into his throat.

"We would, our... friendship, it stretched a quite a bit." Rhysand said, a growl pressing into his voice.

Tamlin couldn't help it, he huffed a laugh. Rhysand took a hold of his arm, "Don't deny it Spring."

"Deny what, bat?" Tamlin quipped.

Rhysand just grinned, instead of answering he asked, "Do you think about me when you fuck him?" Rhysand jutted his head towards where a group of Autumn males were socializing. Tamlin didn't doubt Lucien was among them.

Tamlin finally laughed, a full, genuine laugh. He laughed even harder when Rhysand's face fell from smugness to simmering hatred.

"Lucien is happy in his own relationships." Tamlin said, he would never tell Rhysand about Jesminda, but it made him feel good to know how false Rhysand's little theory was.

Tamlin leaned in close, stepping up onto his tiptoes to be Rhysand's level, like he used to do before he kissed him, "And you and your little wings, are the last things I'm thinking about when I'm fucking somebody."

That 'little wings' comment made Rhysand step forward, pressing his body fully against Tamlin. His eyes full of anger, making the violet a deep purple, "Liar." Rhysand hissed. "You are too much like the dogs to be on a throne such as Spring. You deserve less than a feral animal. We used to call you that, you know, Cassian, Az and I. The feral kid from Spring. You were like a dog when we fucked too. A desperate bitch in heat."

Tamlin had heard enough. Here was the male he had been friends with for decades. Who had taught him to wield daggers and swords. Who had taken him in when his brothers left him bloodied, bruised and broken. Who had brought him up so high when he had felt so low. Who had assured him he wasn't the dog, the beast, everyone accused him of being.

His brothers called him a beast, a dog, a feral animal. Rhysand knew all that, because Tamlin had told him. Rhysand had been the one to tell him he was never that. Had told him he was worthy of being treated like person, had told him that was the bare minimum.

Now, he threw it all back in his face like he never meant it. And it hurt. It hurt so much.

If Tamlin stayed any longer, he was going to lose it. So he turned away from Rhysand headed for the exit, people stared at him. Andras tried to wave him down and even Lucien looked over, but Tamlin passed them all.

He practically ran out the entrance. Down the stairs, going and going until he found an empty esplanade, a road that overlooked the glittering sea. The moon hung in the deep night sky, stars stared down at him as if they were accusing him. Accusing him of the same crime Rhysand was. A crime he didn't fucking commit.

It didn't matter though; Rhysand couldn't be swayed. And oh, how Tamlin had tried to sway him. Had sent him letter after letter after letter. Begging and pleading for Rhysand to listen to him. His brothers had drugged him, he didn't even remember telling them. The whole thing had been a haze, a blur of nothing.

But Rhysand didn't care what he had to say. Just wanted someone to blame.

Rhysand now appeared beside him, had followed him from the party.

The darkness curled around Tamlin's wrists like chains. Would he ever be free of the clutches of Night? Or had becoming friends with Rhysand in the first place trapped him in a cage he could never escape?

"You're a coward," Rhysand hissed, "A good for nothing, waste of space. You're a coward and you're nothing."

"I am worth something-," Tamlin tried to argue.

Rhysand laughed, "Oh you think I was serious when I told you that? I lie Tamlin, and I lied to you. Without me, you aren't worth a drop of anything anyone gives you. Give it time, that fox you love so much will leave. In time everyone will leave you."

Tamlin sucked in a breath, and finally chose to turn away from him. Tears were beginning to form in the Spring Lords eyes, and he wouldn't let Rhysand see them.

As Tamlin turned around, Rhysand delivered the final blow, "Going to run away from this too? Going to pretend none of this affects you at all? Why did I expect anything more? You're just like your father. I hope you never have children, hate for what happened to you to happen to them."

Tamlin's entire world came to crashing halt. He stopped walking as everything he had convinced of himself shattered.

Rhysand's footsteps were the only sound he could hear as the Night Lord came closer.

"Hate that its true Tamlin?"

Tamlin felt his shoulders begin to shake, then his heart racing, and finally his face contorting, his skin changing as anger overrode every rational thought in his mind.

"Come now, little Tamlin, tell me how right I am." Rhysand was right behind him now, so close Tamlin could feel his breath on his neck.

Tamlin then whirled around. He stared right up in Rhysand's eyes and watched as those lustful, selfish eyes turned to horror.

Instead of Tamlin's face, it was Rhysand's sister, Branon, who glowered up at him. And it was in Branon's voice that Tamlin said, "Perhaps you are truly like your father, considering you couldn't even save your own mother and sister's lives."

Rhysand paled, his whole body beginning to shake. Tears formed in his eyes, and he stumbled back. Tamlin, still wearing Branon's face, sneered, "You have become exactly what you swore you would never be. Selfish! Vindictive! and cruel! I have never deserved your hatred! You know what happened that night! I needed saving too! You let us all drown! I may have never been worth anything to you, but you were worth something to me and now," Tamlin let out a cold, humorless laugh, "Now I feel nothing for you. Your face, your eyes, your voice and your words, mean absolutely nothing to me."

Tears spilled down Rhysand's cheeks, and true to his words, Tamlin felt nothing for him. No remorse, no anger, no hatred. Just plain nothing. Everything emptied out from his words, words that were a long time coming.

Rhysand looked down to the floor. Tamlin wondered if he was remembering his dear sister. A woman who had loved with fire and passion. Who had smiled through flames. Who had fought with power like no other.

Tamlin only felt a little guilty for using her face to put Rhysand in his place. But the guilt was only for her, never for Rhysand.

Tamlin refused to ever feel guilty for Rhysand, for what the Night Lord had brought upon himself by refusing to move on, by refusing to listen to the true story. Instead making up his own and flaunting it to everyone.

Tamlin would be free of him. That he swore. He was worth something. The people in his life would not leave him. Rhysand was wrong.

************************************

Rhysand had been right.

Tamlin laid in the ruins of his Court. He looked up at the stars. Tears spilling down his cheeks, his whole-body trembling as he struggled to keep his cries contained.

Everyone had left him, like Rhysand had said they would. He had succumbed to his own rage, like his father, like Rhysand had accused him of being.

Rhysand was right.

He wasn't worth anything.

I loved this prompt so much! Thank you so much for sharing, I hope I did this one justice!

#acotar #pro tamlin #tamlin #tamsand #rhysand #rhyslin #acotar au #acotar fanfiction #acotar headcanons #sorry for the ending #I couldnt help but make it sad #don't twist my words though! rhysand was not right tam! you are worth something! #anti rhysand

[mychlapci]

Hfkhduf prowl being so bad at fucking is great I am petitioning for the origin story of prowl/twins to be that one day he finally had enough of their shenanigans and decided he was going to put them in their place. And obviously the way to do it in which these heckin brutes would understand and respect was that he was going to fuck some respect into them

He summons them to his office for their disciplinary action. The twins actually secretly (to prowl at least) find angry Prowl really hot so like when he grabs Sideswipe and slams him face down onto the desk, aft up whilst his pedes remain on the floor, the twins share a look like Oh O///O. This is happening huh.

Prowl has Sides held down in an arm lock as he knocks on the twin's valve panel, ordering him to open it. Sideswipe makes a show of pretending to be a nuisance for a bit before he gives in with a wiggle of his hips and lets his panel slide open. To be honest he's already a little bit wet. This is quite exciting ;3

Sunstreaker obediently stands before Prowl's desk for once, watching. The scene is getting him a little heated up. He needs to keep appearances up tho and dismisses the ping to open his panels.

Prowl growls threats into Sideswipe's audial, loud enough for Sunstreaker to hear as well, sender a shiver down their spinal struts.

But then Prowl shoves 2 digits into Sides' valve and the frontliner actually jumps a little. That kind of Hurt. He barely has the time to frown before those digits move inside him. What hits him is immediately Discomfort. Somehow Prowl manages to move his servo in a way where he kinda just. Hits all the wrong spots. Like maybe he's trying to claw Sideswipe inside out or something. The red twin winces and watches Sunny mirror a similar expression.

Okay maybe this wasn't going to be as exciting as they thought. Maybe this was actually going to be an intentionally unpleasant punishment.

Prowl manages to shove another digit in and catches the sensitive mesh of Sideswipe's valve slightly, making him yelp in pain and reflexively clench down on those digits.

"Oh you like that, do you?"

Sides can see his brother grimace at the display as he tries to reply, "With all due respect sir, n-aAA" and gets cut off by another awkward and uncomfortable thrust of digits

The brothers' optics meet in genuine confusion for a bit, wondering whether whatever is happening is intentional or not

Before they can decide, the digits are withdrawn- Sideswipe heaves a sigh of relief- before they hear the clicking of Prowl's modesty panel retract and the tip of his spike pokes against Sideswipe's valve

Prowl braces one servo on the small of Sideswipe's back and the other on the desk as he pushes himself in. Sideswipe can feel the tactician shaking as he does. At least that feels pretty good. His valve is filled and he relaxes onto the desk, arching his back and pushing his hips back against Prowl's just slightly

Sunstreaker also seems to relax a little then. Like oh okay this is fine. His brother looks comfortable. Maybe this could still be fun?

The tiniest jerk of Sides' hips has Prowl gasping. He struggles to steady himself and grips the edge of his desk until it dents. Now he's got the twins where he wants them. Now they'll see-

Prowl suddenly pulls his hips back and begins to thrust into Sideswipe. The red twin's optics- that he didn't even know he had offlined- refresh and cycle with a start. Prowl slams into him with uneven and awkward thrusts, making Sideswipe squirm and yelp in some kind of shock or. Or something.

He catches his brother's optics again and Sunny stares at him with what can only be described as Discomfort

Sunstreaker watches as Prowl shakily ruts into his brother with all the finesse of a cyberdog on engex. His doorwings are already quivering and it looks like he has trouble even keeping his optics unshuttered

Sideswipe guesses its not too bad...? It doesn't hurt. But it's not exactly good either- The charge does build though. Slowly. He tries to focus on the friction in his valve and helps by canting his hips and pushes back against the uneven thrusts. Maybe if he could just-

With no warning, Prowl suddenly gasps and stiffens, hot fluid suddenly painting Sideswipe's insides. And then he slumps over, vents whirring noisily

Everything is quiet for a bit. The only sound in the office their fans and the hums of their engines.

".......that's it, sir?" comes Sideswipe's little quip and Prowl looks up, doorwings immediately shooting up into the most vertical position Sunstreaker has ever seen

"That's it?! What do you mean that's-"

Sunstreaker, at this point, honestly confused as to whether he should find this arousing or not, gives Prowl a flat look. "You heard him."

"Wh- What do you- You are supposed to be-"

Sides clenches his still aching valve around Prowl's depressurising spike and relishes in the way Prowl yelps and immediately pulls out with a shiver

"Like. Is this our punishment, sir? To be unsatisfying half fragged and then left out in the open? Cos that's cold even for you, sir" Sideswipe looks over his shoulder this time and watches as Prowl's optic twitches in time with a doorwing.

Oh he's pissed.

"I did- I did everything necessary and overloaded your insolent-!"

Sunstreaker interrupts with an unamused scoff. "You think my brother overloaded?"

Prowl stares back, optic twitching again

"From that? Really?" comes Sunny's next question and Prowl looks like he's ready to tear them a new one. If his legs weren't still shaking, that is

"Want us to show you what a real fragging is~?" Sideswipe wiggles his hips, Prowl's transfluid slowly dribbling out of his valve. "You know- my brother and I could show you ;3"

oh my god. i’m almost getting secondhand embarrassment. Prowl is so embarrassing!!! god.

Yeah. He thinks he’s so hot. A big scary daddy dom who’s going to finally fuck the twin terrors into submission. And hey, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe also think that’s what’s going to happen, and they’re very much into it.

It’s so funny, really. All of Prowl’s facade is gone as he starts to awkwardly hump Sideswipe, covered in his own coolant and clearly so strained and turned on, while Sideswipe and Sunstreaker just kind on... watch on. It almost looks like Prowl is getting the hold of it, when he suddenly cums, just a couple minutes into the "punishment."

It’s so sad... poor thing thought he made Sideswipe overload, the twins feel pity for him. They better teach him how to fuck better. First they ruin his valve in the very same way he tried and failed to ruin Sideswipe’s. They gotta show him what a good spiking feels like first, that it’s not all about humping a valve like a sealed bot straight off the factory line.

And then they better start training Prowl. Maybe they teach him how to mount on command. Forcing him to stay still inside of Sunstreaker’s valve while he trembles and fumes because he can spike him, if you’d just let him move, he can do it. But when he tries, Sideswipe grabs his hips and squeezes. Maybe they have to make him wear an overload inhibitor to make sure he lasts longer than a minute and a half inside of a valve.

Oh it’s definitely a long road, so many possibilities...

#valveplug #dubcon #texty #virginity kink #kind of #it goes hand in hand with cumming quickly for me okay

[le-trash-prince]

for the five or whatever many things meme/prompt...whatever:

the story of how dean completely accidentally becomes the top dog of their prison block and how winner somewhat accidentally becomes his bitch

I'm making this a space prison AU because thinking about real prison just makes me sad dfkgdfgd

setting-wise this is inspired by The Salvation Gambit but garbled because I'm going off of memory of having read it once.

Background plot-wise, things are similar to Pit Babe, just, you know, space-ified. Babe champions a local star-system racing circuit, Tony deals in interstellar human trafficking (I'm going with "special alpha powers are a human thing"), Kenta is an android (I have so many thoughts about android Kenta to share later), and Dean and Winner are on the same shuttle, post-series, getting shipped off to the nearest prison planet. Winner spends the entire trip bragging about how his family is sooo wealthy, he'll get a retrial and be out of there in no time, and "maybe if you kiss my boots I'll think about helping you out." Which just pisses Dean off, but whatever.

But, there's an unexpected change of plans, and their shuttle gets hijacked by a massive, unsanctioned prison ship run by a sentient, megalomaniacal AI that views itself as the prisoners' god of redemption. They're not just prisoners now, they're captives, and nobody ever escapes this ship. Not that this is going to stop them from trying—they're both pilots after all. They're each given a "welcome kit" and then dropped into a hallway where they're immediately jumped by a trio of scavengers. Winner, as always, cowers after a single hit, but Dean—he may be small, he may be new, but he's angry and he's willing to hurt people, and he fights them off until they're rescued by another, friendlier group.

They get taken to this group’s quadrant for the night, and they’re given the recruitment speech, "we grow our own fresh food, we've got weapons," but they've also got boring rules that Winner isn't interested in living by. And if these people are desperate enough to recruit newbies, it means there's bound to be better things elsewhere in the ship. Dean on the other hand is a little taken-in by being pampered and told what an asset he'd be, and he's a little annoyed by Winner's assumption that Dean would just follow him wherever. Especially when Dean is starting to realize he could actually take Winner in a fight, so who actually needs who here? They argue, Winner storms off, and then Dean has a "goddamnit" moment of realizing this ship is bigger than he can even fathom, and the only familiar face onboard is about to disappear, possibly for good. And Winner is a better pilot than him, which still makes him Dean's best chance of ever seeing daylight again. They need each other. So he grabs what he can from the little room they'd been set up in and sulks off after Winner.

From there, the two of them make their way through the different quadrants of the ship, trying to learn the ins-and-outs so they can hatch their escape plan. They get a change of clothes that removes the "fresh meat" target on their backs. They have a "and there was only one blanket" moment on one of the colder levels. And they never cease to be amazed at just how expansive the ship is, and what kind of life people have built for themselves after having been trapped here for generations. They visit a market on a central level that has live music going on—the loud and pulsing sort that gets Dean stripping his jacket off and joining the crowd of dancers because he's been desperate to let loose. Winner prowls along the edge of the crowd, until he gives in to the heated looks that Dean keeps shooting his way and joins him in a dance that's mostly just the two of them grinding their hips against each other. And then there’s Dean grabbing Winner by the wrist and dragging him off to somewhere more private.

Winner is big and good at giving mean looks that intimidate most people, but Dean's the real scary one (he will bite your fingers off). Their goal is finding people who would be useful in figuring out an escape plan, but they end up amassing a small gang of recent intakes, and they hole up in one of the surveillance dead-zones of the ship. And Dean has never felt more useful or needed. The thing is, Winner still has family on the outside. He has something to lose if they never make it out of here. But Dean has already lost everything, and sometimes the thought that he might never see X-Hunter again is almost a relief. Like he doesn't have to face up to the past. He wonders if it would really be so bad to stay. But all it takes is a "No wonder you're such a shitty racer if you'd give up on it before you even got started," to remind Dean that they're still in a prison, and there's things on the outside that he wants to do. But he still gives Winner the cold shoulder for a whole day after that comment.

One last thing is Winner does eventually grow the tiniest spine and attack someone when they try carrying Dean off during a fight because he panics at the thought of something happening to Dean. Of course this is immediately followed up by a show of emotional constipation and “Maybe don’t be such a dead weight next time,” because it is still Winner.

Edit: Android!Kenta AU set in the same 'verse

#asks #pit babe #pit babe the series #pit babe au #winnerdean #the salvation gambit: sapphic con artists! toxic levels of devotion! buff middle aged blacksmith lady who i ship myself with!

[moonlight-tmd]

Some all spark shenanigans happens and Blitzwing gets split into 3 mechs, a monoformer (Random), a seeker (icy) and a grounder (hothead). They all still the same with all the same memories, however now they lost their triple changer ability as well as the emotions that each persona represents. Like Icy can’t get angry, Random can’t feel fear, and Hothead can’t be calm.

Bee of course helps him through it and they try to find a way to put all of his pieces back together. Tho I imagine that their relationship would get confusing since now only one feels love for Bee while the others just remember what that felt like.

I had an idea about this once that i never shared; it's pretty similar to this:

So- Blitzwing joins the Autobots, Megs is captured n all. One day they have a mission involving Blackarachnia and they get stuck in her labirynth-like cave system hideout, they're surrounded by those weird insecticon clones and something happens to the machine(with the Allspark Shard in it) they were coming from and it explodes and the team ges flung into different parts of the cave.

So Bee and Optimus stumble into Blitzwing- He is a full Seeker with purple and black coloration with Icy fronting. It's weird but they press on- only to find Bulkhead and... Blitzwing again? That Blitzwing is beige and black Grounder with his Hothead face, raging at the remaining clones.

Once they calm down and the two Blitzwings notice each other- oh boy...

Icy goes full panic, he already felt very weird and now this- oh no it's even worse than a split personality! The other are uneffectively trying to calm him down until Hothead comes over, slaps Icy in the helm and shakes him while yelling that panic won't help. It's a bad coping mechanism but it works, Hothead pulls Icy and goes to search for the 3rd part of him.

They bump into Prowl and Ratchet and everyone's weirded out what has happened. They come to the big dark cavern that's maybe used as a storage, lots of scrap and crates laying around...

Something is in the dark, before Prowl can warn Bee, the thing pounces at him-

Well, they just found Random: this one doesn't look anything like the others, they're not sure if he looks anything like a transformer. He is all black with red biolights and purple glint, he has claws, horns and weird quill things and- is that a tail? He looks more like a metallic cryptid creature that a cybertronian.

So Random is there squeezing Bee in a hug and twirling around all lovestruck. Then he notices the other pieces of him and unintentionally drops Bee and goes to them. The puzzle is (almost) complete!

They all have no idea what happened, so they find the remnants of that machine and take it with them in hopes Ratchet can fix it somehow and return to base.

Now i imagine each personality had few corresponding emotions attached to them in the first place, I'm not gonna name all of them but you can guess the range and mixes from the ones i do:

Icy: Fear, Sadness, Calm, Worry, Panic, Surprise, Disappointment, Thankfulness(he's the one that will have a full blown breakdown if he's overwhelmed or scared).

Hothead: Anger, Annoyance, Pride, Hate, Passion, Distress(as in when he's so worried or scared he'll turn agressive and/or defensive).

Random: Joy, Mischief, Playfulness, Dramatic(this guys will exaggerate everything), Affection, also Fear(ex; joking in the face of death full knowing he's screwed) and Rage(he goes total feral, screeches n all)

They either don't feel certain emotions or they're very weak compared to the other personalities. But they all feel love for Bee- it might be from different perspectives but it's still love.

It's certainly very weird, one Blitzwing was more than they could handle, but 3? Good thing Bee knows his Sparkmate- err, Sparkmates very well and knows just what to do to get them all calmed down.

But then the other issue comes; sharing a berth. Blitzwing was already big, even for the enlarged berth they put in their room after Blitz moved in with Bee. No one wants to be away from the others so they end up in a big cuddle pile: Hothead at the bottom, Icy snuggled up from the side and Random acts as a blanket on top. And Bee is trapped in the middle, pressed against Hothead's chassis. It's rather comfy...

Bad side? All the sounds of their inner machinery combined is so loud, even when recharging. Bee is forced to get earmuffs to fall into recharge after the first night. Also he can't get out of bed in the morning, he has to wait for all his boyfriends to wake up somewhere around 11am to get out and feed himself and them.

Ratchet is more than annoyed that their oil supply is drained so rapidly. They need to have multiple deliveries in a single week.

While Icy and Hothead are somewhat controllable, Random is, well, random. Bee was already tied to the base because of the whole thing- whenever the team leaves to deal with trouble, Bee is the one to always stay behind with the Blitzwings. The only ones that are allowed to go and assist when needed are Icy and Hothead, Random has a strict ban from going outside without someone(Bee) to watch over him. He doesn't mind that tho, he loves spending time with his hummel.

But that also means poor Bee is sentenced to deal with Random's pranks and antics.

One time he hid and Bee, Prowl and Sari were trying to find him. He jumped and grabbed Bee from behind the couch and Bee squeaked- Literally, Like a dog toy- before he ran off cackling and hid again.

Later when the other Blitzwings and the team came back they were met with Random screaming about domestic abuse and furious Bee chasing him with a foam baseball bat. (it didn't hurt at all, but Bee couldn't leave that afthole without consequences)

So, after a whole bunch of shenanigans there's a break-in at their base- few survivor insectricon-clones found a way to that machine that split Blitz in the first place and stole it. So there's a chase, obviously all the Blitzwings are the closest cuz this is very important to them.

And just like in the beginning- the thing explodes and Blitzwing is back together again. His system has troubles functioning at first cuz he was literally in 3 places at once and all the data colliding with each other is overwhelming but he gets better the next day. He's very happy to be back in one piece. And so it Bee- as amusing and wholesome it was with 3 Blitzwings, he much prefers to have just one Sparkmate.

The others are also relieved that this whole situation is over... not to mention the weird harem that has arose when there were 3 Blitzwings.

#tfa #maccadam #blitzbee #ask box #tfa shenanigans #long post

[taskignored]

Iron Blood Prologue

This is something i typed up for my au, so take a looksee if you are so inclined. Some ppl seem to like my deranged rambling so i figure i should share this. I took a note out of @ae-neon's book and started with a scene starring Jurian, though he might come off as more a Pelinal Whitestrake in this. Also, idk if this is really necessary but I feel I should tell whoever's interested in reading this that it does get a little brutal, so be warned. Feel free to give feedback, I crave it.

            The sound of ominous bells rang in the distance. The acrid smell of smoke was a blight to every being on the field, the dark was alive and breathing, lurking just beyond the reach of their haunting orange lights. The dark was a presence, just as much as the figures that stood in orderly rows. Not a foot was out of line with the only signs of movement being flags and cloth. The muted shine of these figures’ armor glinted cruelly in the gloom. Their faces were hidden behind unfeeling, faceless helmets with naught but two orange lights in place of eyes, glowing faintly. Before them lie a barren field with the remnants of a battle recently waged, the mud churned, and the ground scorched.

            The sound of chimes broke the silence garnered by the bells, and as one the soldiers parted, neatly folding back to allow a wicked-looking vehicle and it’s simple, unassuming trailer past. It was little more than a grey box with wheels while the vehicle was a thorny, rugged contraption. It had large steel spikes adorning the front, designed to impale the monsters they fought while smaller, barbed spikes decorated the rest of its form. Its engine growled like a hungry beast as its orange headlights cut through the dark like a knife. The soldiers quickly moved to close the gap once the vehicle and its cargo prowled past them, seamlessly closing behind like an undeniable wave.

When the vehicle reached the front of the line it pulled to the side, effectively bringing itself and the trailer to be parallel with the front of the formation. All seemed to fall still as the car came to a halt, it’s previously dim lights going out entirely. The sound of a large lock being disengaged could briefly be heard before the trailer opened up, split straight down the center. It was to the resounding boom of the walls hitting the ground that a gruesome stage was revealed, facing away from the soldiers and out towards the dark. Decorating the stage were three large statues of roses fashioned out of steel, with iron thorns painted red. The Rose buds were closed and looked to be painted black in the ever lightening dark.

 Upon the stage stood several figures. Three of which were kneeling, a bag tossed over their heads while their bedraggled forms were tied loosely to the stems of the roses by two knights each. The angry spikes on the knights’ figures sizzled on contact with the prisoners’ forms. Another figure decked in a similar fashion to the knights stood to the side, arms crossed as they waited for the knights to finish. Once they had, the figure stepped forwards, towards the army of steel and iron and away from the dark where their enemy lie.

“Brothers and sisters,” the knight began, “before us lie the enemy. The enemy that has desecrated our homes, nay our very world, with their foul magics!”

The faintest sounds of shifting metal could be heard as the army below stirred, their ominous orange eyes deepening to a vermillion shade as they absorbed the knight’s words.

“Even now they weave their unnatural spells, seeking to kill and maim, to despoil yet more of our Gods-given world!” The knight lifted a hand encased in heavy steel, spikes gleaming on his knuckles, he pointed to the three prisoners that were now being properly fastened to the stems of the twisted roses. The sound of the prisoners’ weak cries of pain was drowned out by the sizzling sound their flesh made on contact with the stems. “Here are three of the enemy! The twice damned fairies!”

On cue one of the knights paired with the prisoners ripped the bags from their heads, revealing inhuman characteristics. Too long ears, fangs, fur, claws, antennae, and all sorts of proof that pointed to these creatures’ anomalous nature were revealed. At once jeers were heard, the sound of heavy boots colliding with the mud and the resounding clatter of metal on metal rang out. The soldiers’ rage and hate on full display, their vermillion eyes deepening even further.

“Before you sit two captains and a commander!” the knight roared, his voice heard over the cacophony. Slowly, the soldiers settled, their eyes smoldering in the dark, the dawn not far off now. “The commander known as Clythia, and her two faithful hounds, Brar and Thalladar.”

The knight gestured to the red headed fairy tied to the centermost rose, her hair plastered to her face while green blood stained her skin. Her dark eyes were full of hatred and pain as she glared at the outspoken knight. Burns could be seen on her white skin, her features were gaunt and her lips dried and cracked. The knight extended his hand, revealing an inconspicuous remote that hadn’t been there previously.

“By blood and by right this world is ours,” The knight intoned to the army below. “and by blood we will take it back…” He said the last part quietly, almost to himself, before he pressed the button on the remote, causing all three roses to bloom. As the petals parted, it was revealed that they had been holding red blood. Red, iron rich blood that was now being funneled directly onto the fairy prisoners.

Their screams were drowned out by the soldiers below, the deafening chant of “Jurian! Jurian! Jurian!” thundered out across the landscape, greeting the dawn.

And so Jurian turned, arms stretched wide in an almost welcoming gesture towards the dark, towards the enemy that lurked on the other side of the field. The sun’s first rays pushing the shadows back so that Jurian could see them in all their twisted, alien glory. But they could see him, too. They could see that his armor was more elaborate than the knights that stood with him on the stage, marking him as a commander. They could see the show he and his kin had organized for them.

And as the details of his foe became ever clearer, he could make out the figure of a woman, dressed in golden armor sitting atop a mockery of a horse. As he took stock of his enemy, he had the faint premonition that this would be his last campaign. The thought filled him with fear, and exhilaration.

#acotar au #Iron Blood #fanfic

[darkcrowprincess]

Twilight au: Amity vs Hunter

"Starting a relationship with a human is the most brainless idiotic thing you have ever done Boscha." Hunter growls this as he prowls back and forth in the living room of Noceda coven.

Luz watches as Hunter holds nothing back, the gloves are off, her husband is pissed off. Boscha says nothing struck silent, golden eyes wide with fear. It's Hunter, he's not Vee her older sister who Boscha would be easily fighting and breaking things with right now.

Only second to Darius, Hunter is the most physically powerful and strategicly skilled Vampire in their coven. He is The definition of terrifying. Boscha knows to keep her famous temper in check when he speaks in that tone. Unfortunately said human of her's does not.

"Don't speak to her like that!" Amity yells, getting in between the pale blonde and her pink haired Vampire lover. Amity face is red in anger, she has zero fear in her. Boscha tries to gently move Amity out of way(not wanting to use vampire speed and strength to move her). But Amity doesn't budge. She stares defiantly back up into Hunter's dark wine color eyes. Hunter hisses in return, showing his fangs. Amity just give back an unimpressed look. Surprisingly not intimidated for a human. Luz can see why Boscha likes her.

"Tell me again how it's either of our fault, me and Boscha didn't do anything. That vampire Kikimora and her friends were the ones to try and attack us first." Amity says with an angry, yet questioning look.

Luz gets a chill running down her spine, 'she still doesn't get it' thinks Luz. Luz longs for hours ago at Gravesfield beach. When everything was peaceful, Hunter playfully chasing her up and down the wet sand. Their skin sparkling like her glowing lights in the sun peaking out from the clouds. Boscha and Amity up by the rocks cuddling. Her coven sister looking so happy and peaceful(something she hasn't in a long time. Happiness and love go hand in hand. It is so hard to find, doublely so when your a vampire.) Yet here they are back at the house. Having managed to escape Kikimora and her companions. Unfortunately that wouldn't be the end of it.

"Kikimora works for Belos," growls Hunter. Amity blinks at this, "Belos you mean, Philip Wittebane, the Vampire Emperor? Why would-?"

"Why would he care if Kikimora reports back that she saw a human together with a vampire? Because human," he says with distain in his voice. She knows Belos would be interested in knowing about your relationship. Belos hates Vampires and Humans together. Perfect example my parents! And look what Belos did to them! He'll do the same to you the both of you now!"

Hunter runs his hands angrily through his hair, hands shaking, "On top of that, he now has the chance to discover Luz's where abouts. If he finds her he won't rest till he has her again." Hunter stares at Luz across the room for a second, true fear in his eyes, fear for her, always for her. Than turns back towards Amity and Boscha, angry and beastly, the monster close to the surface now."This is all happening because of you, because Boscha got involved with you!"

At this Luz moves with a flash of vampire speed, and comes up to hug Hunter from behind. Luz is terrified too, but she won't have Hunter be cruel. Especially when it's not Amity and Boscha's fault. The hug seems to calm him. At least for a moment.

Amity scoffs, and lashes out cruelly with her words,"Is he always like this? Short temper, beastly? He acts more like a vampire than your whole clan." To be fair to Amity, she and Hunter are very similar in character. She did not enjoy seeing Hunter blame the love of her life. For the first time ever, Amity wanted to protect. To protect what's hers. Her possessive protectiveness of Boscha mirrors Hunter's perfectly. Ironically though she is the one in need of the most protection out of anyone in this room.

Hunter hisses at her words, the anger a burning thing just growing at the sight of her, "You want to see beastly! I'll show you beastly human!" Hunter hands had grown bird talons, sharp to the touch. In his anger he goes to slash at the human(Amity picking at scaps she doesn't know not to pick at). Luz still with one arm around his waist, grabs his wrist in a vise grip.

"HUNTER NO!"

"Amity!"

Boscha in her fear pushes Amity out of the way, too bad she pushed her using to much strength.

"CRASH!"

With the force of Boscha vampire strength, Amity crashes into a glass table by the wall. Instantly she is cut and bleeding. Filled with glass. She'sOK, but still hurt. Bleeding in a room filled with Vampires.

Luz panics and calls her mom. Holding her nose, she pulls Hunter out of the room. Using all her strength to hold him. Hunter now smelling the blood is hissing and hungry. Trying to break out of Luz's grip. Camila bearing the yelling runs into the room. Quick as a flash she goes to a panicking and guilty Boscha and dazed but all right Amity.

Luz tosses a hissing Hunter over her shoulder like he weighs nothing, his claws digging into her skin. She walks out, and takes Hunter far away till he calms down. Right now he isn't her husband, right now he's a beast, a monster. Just like her. Just like her family. The last thing Luz hears is Boscha apologizing over and over again. She was reminded too that she's a monster.

#the owl house #disney #lunter #huntceda #luz x hunter #goldenlight #goldenluz #hunter x luz #twilight au #yes i'm a lunter shipper #boschamity #boschmity #yes i'm a boschmity shipper #my writing

[narukoibito]

Ginny was captured in dh sounds soooo interesting!

Thank you for the ask, Anon!

Ginny was captured in dh features exactly what it sounds like. Instead of Luna, Ginny is the one who was abducted in DH. A discord discussion in 2020 inspired me, but my take would focus on post-war rather than show what happened in DH, plus it's a bodyguard AU.

After the war, Harry has deliberately stayed away from Ginny out of guilt (it's his fault she was captured after all). However, she's recently become a target. Harry inevitably becomes her bodyguard, there's forced proximity (roommates), possibly only one bed. Haha, so you know, all the typical tropes. There'd be flashbacks, PTSD, mutual pining, angry!Ginny, guilt-ridden!Harry, and former Death Eaters on the prowl. (Jeez, I thought of this in 2020, but @foreverginevra is pretty much writing something super similar in The Path From You without the Ginny being captured part, and doing a much better job than I probably would have!)

I was going to try to write in for a 2020 gift exchange, but ended up writing since feeling is first who pays attention instead because this fic seemed way too ambitious to complete in time. But I did write this snippet:

"I can’t ginny, I can’t," Harry chokes out.

As always, he can’t put the words together, can’t string the reasons to the emotions surging within him.

He wants her to shake him, to convince him it's not true, even though he knows nothing she says can change his mind.

She must see if in his face (she always, always seems to understand the words he can’t say) because her eyes widen before they flutter close in resignation. The tight grip on his shirt slackens.

Don’t, the desperate thought claws through him, shredding his insides. Don’t let me go.

But she doesn’t look at him, and her hand drops away.

Ah, angst, my old friend. So nice to see you again.

Feel free to send me asks on any of my WIPs!

#ginny was captured in DH #anonymous #wip game #all the tropes associated with bodyguard au #hinny #harry/ginny

[redorich]

for the hermit canyon, i humbly request:

Etho messing with Karl and maybe like, Lazarbeam or Fundy, by pretending he’s moth man.

Quackity stalks through the woods, blissfully unaware of its other inhabitants-- not that he would care, if he knew. No, tonight, under the full moon (because it's romantic) he makes his move.

The Hermit, as Quackity is completely sure of, is a beautiful young woman with long flowing hair as white as snow. Because she is a creature of untold power and beauty, fairy tale logic obviously applies. Therefore, if Quackity can steal her clothes, she will have no choice but to marry him and they will live happily ever after as big booty bitches in love.

Nodding to himself, Quackity feels assured in his logic. He's wearing his favorite assless chaps, his best pair of knockoff Yeezys, and no shirt. He is ready for what is to come.

---

Karl lurks deep in the forest, illuminated only by the moon. He leans against a tree, taking care not to disturb his outfit-- he is camouflaged as a bush. Dangling strips of green and brown fabric cover his body, and his limbs are completely hidden in the costume so long as he stands still. It's a daunting task, standing still in the dark, dangerous woods at night. Nevertheless, Karl knows that this is what he must do.

"Triclops Mothman, my beloved," he whispers into the night. He will find Mothman, and he will marry Mothman. There is no alternative.

---

Far away from both Karl and Quackity, though still in the same spruce forest, Sapnap angrily prowls. Well, he'd describe it as a prowl. Truthfully, it's more of a pouty stomp. He knows that this forest has had multiple "Hermit sightings", and Sapnap wants-- no, needs what he's after.

"Hermit!" he screams into the night. "Come out and fight me, you little bitch! Man on man!"

To emphasize his point, he bangs a pot and a pan against each other several times. Sapnap is getting his revenge for that little ravager prank, one way or another.

---

Deep within the canyon walls, the Hermit complex looks like an overturned anthill with all its activity. It's Halloween night come early.

"I'm not wearing a dress," Etho insists.

Grian whines, "But Etho, I made it just for you! It matches Stress's outfit."

Stress, upon hearing her name, looks up from her book and waves. Cleo is currently fiddling with the thick mane of synthetic white hair Stress is wearing, styling the wig into a princess-y type braid.

"I'll say it again," Cleo says, looking very intently into Etho's eyes, "I could take your place."

"No," Etho sighs. "If what Puffy said about these guys is true, you'd probably bite someone's face off by the end of the night."

"You're no fun," Cleo huffs, but acquiesces.

"At least put on the wig," Grian demands.

Grian and Etho have a staring contest for a solid ninety seconds before Etho snaps his fingers in front of Grian's face, causing him to flinch and blink. "You cheater--!"

"I'll wear the wig," Etho interrupts Grian. Instantaneously, Grian loses his outraged moue.

Cleo sighs. "They're the same wig, right? Do I have to braid Etho's hair, too?"

"I think I'll be fine with my new flowing, luscious locks," Etho says with a humorous crinkle to his eyes.

They all laugh as Etho dramatically flips his fake hair, whipping himself in the face with it in the process. He also receives a thumbs up from Joe, who is in the process of searching for his contact lenses because "Herobrine doesn't wear glasses", according to Bdubs.

Night falls, and the Hermits are prepared. They hope their victims aren't.

---

Quackity catches a glimpse of silver-white after so long searching in the woods. With a little gasp, he eagerly pursues it. His beautiful maiden, ethereal and distant like the moon, darts between trees and leaps across creeks like she is flying, like her feet barely touch the ground.

He follows her to a clearing, but when he bursts through the brush into the open space, she is nowhere to be found.

“Mi rey!” he wails, “Fantasma hermosa! Come to papi!”

Etho, hiding in a tree about five feet away, has no clue what any of those words mean. He affects a terrible falsetto and throws his voice. “Hello, Quackity.”

Quackity jumps, looking around wildly for his beautiful girlboss queen. “Hermit?! You know my name?”

“Of course, Quackity,” Etho says, hefting a large rock in his hand. “Come closer, I have a cask of Amontillado we can share.”

Quackity turns toward Etho's voice just fast enough to catch a glimpse of the Hermit's mask, his (fake) long white hair, his decidedly not female appearance. Quackity looks the Hermit up and down. Etho has never felt more Perceived.

"What's a place like you doing in a guy like this?" Quackity says, flirtatiousness dripping from his voice.

Etho eyes the man's assless chaps with distaste from his crouched perch in a tree. Quick as lightning, he chucks the heavy rock in his hand at Quackity's head, knocking him out instantly.

Etho jumps down from his tree with a huffed sigh. "Well," he says, grabbing Quackity by the ankle and dragging him, "time to get to work."

---

"Pspspsps," Karl whispers, "heeeere Mothman..."

The sound of a twig snapping to his right makes Karl freeze, then turn ever so slowly. There's no one there. Karl holds his breath for what feels like an eternity, but is eventually forced to admit that the noise was probably just an animal. Surely, a creature of Mothman's size would make more noise when he walks, given the weight of his strong legs.

"Mothman," Karl says. "I wrote you a poem!"

Joe, who was up until this point hiding behind trees and ominously snapping twigs, feels a twinge of morbid curiosity. As a poet, he absolutely has to know what Karl considers an adequate love poem for Mothman.

With red cheeks, Karl professes his love:

"Your feelers make me feel so sweet

Your hindwings set my heart aflame

Fern-like antennae make me melt

And Mothman, you're to blame."

Despite himself, Joe is a little bit impressed. It almost makes him feel bad about what he's about to do-- almost.

A soft eerie glow seeps into the forest, catching Karl's eye. He investigates, creeping forward until he turns around a tree and sees glowing white eyes. He screams, but there is no sound, and the forest has disappeared. Only those eyes remain, and they too flicker out of existence.

There is a dim corridor ahead of him, narrow and lit by redstone torches. At the end, there is an iron door. He runs to the exit, but as soon as his hand touches the door it disappears and he is engulfed by swirling purple-- like a Nether portal, but so much more terrifying.

The purple is gone and he can just barely make out the menacing image of a man with glowing white eyes T-posing in the blackness. Karl opens his eyes and wakes up on the forest floor, prone and sore.

"Right," he mutters breathlessly to himself, "Mothman is not interested."

---

"--YOU BITCH ASS PUNK, I'M GONNA RIP YOUR LEGS OFF AND STICK 'EM ON YOUR HEAD!" Sapnap screams, banging the only pot he owns against a non-stick frying pan he stole from George.

"Well, that's not very nice, innit?" says a feminine voice. Sapnap looks left, right, behind him, up in the trees... then down.

Big brown eyes peer up at him through white bangs. A displeased pout set into a moon-pale face attached to an equally moon-pale woman chastises him without words.

"...You're the Hermit?" Sapnap says disbelievingly. He has his doubts that someone as small and pretty as this woman could wrangle a ravager onto his front lawn.

"You wanted a fight," she huffs. "And for the record, you totally had it coming, with Pamela's Revenge-- remember, the rava--"

"Yes, I know the ravager was named Pamela's Revenge! There were like eight hundred million death messages in chat about it, you jackass!" Sapnap snaps, trying to cover up his unease. It's not that he's hesitant to hit her because she's a girl; he would deck the shit out of Niki or Puffy with absolutely no provocation whatsoever. It's just that... she looks soft. Like a non-combatant. It would be too easy, too cruel--

Stress punches Sapnap in the jaw with a wicked right hook. "Stealing is wrong," she says.

While Sapnap is dazed and quite possibly mildly concussed, Stress follows up with a brutal kick to the shin. Sapnap makes a genuine effort to fight back, and he’s no slouch, but he’s been taken so thoroughly off guard that the best he can do with his head spinning as it is is to swing with a wild haymaker and hope it hits.

His fist makes contact with something soft and squishy. He hears a grunt, but Stress shoves him over onto the ground and dumps a bucket of glitter over his head. It burns his eyes, but more importantly it burns his pride. He doesn’t remember at what point he dropped his pot and pan (he must have at some point, because he punched the Hermit with an empty fist), but he’s angry enough to open his watery eyes through the magenta glitter and snatch George’s frying pan up off the forest floor, hurling it at the Hermit with devastating accuracy. She yelps, blocking with her forearm at the last moment.

“Knew I shoulda let Etho...” Sapnap hears the Hermit mutter. What’s an Etho?

Stress irritably bonks Sapnap on the head with the pan he threw at her. He goes limp like a ragdoll, and Stress sets about maneuvering his body into a sitting position leaned against a tree so she can do his makeup while he sleeps.

“Hope I don’t poke his eye out!” she says. “Ah well, he’s got two anyway. Now, should I go for a cute, summery look, or a dark evening look?”

---

In Atrium 1 of the Hermit Canyon complex, Puffy laughs loud and clear, clutching her paper cup tightly so she doesn’t spill her fruit punch. "No,” she chokes out, “he didn’t.”

Cub, holding a similar paper cup, waves his hand in a vague gesture. “Yep. That’s Etho for you. You know, one time he got Doc to run around with a snowman head on, eating spider eyes?”

“Oh man,” Puffy sighs, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye. “I’m so glad I snitched on Karl, Quackity, and Sapnap. I can’t wait to see their reactions!”

Cub grins evilly. “Stress got pictures before she left.”

Puffy gasps, stars in her eyes. “I’ll bake you a whole cake if you get me a copy.”

“I’ll bake Cub a whole cake if he gives them to me instead,” Grian interjects from across the room. “I don’t need them, I just want to take them from you.”

“Nooooo!” Puffy wails melodramatically. “Grian, please spare me!”

“Five diamond blocks,” Grian makes his demand.

Puffy continues to fake-sob, pretending not to notice Scar sneaking up on Grian until Scar drops an anvil on Grian’s head, like a Looney Tunes episode but slightly to the left. While Grian is distracted, Cub slips the pictures to Puffy, who puts them in her inventory without looking.

Etho walks into the Atrium, now dressed as his normal self, including his natural hair, which looks like an angry wet cat perched atop his head, just the way he likes it. Everyone cheers.

“So, how’d it go with Quackity?” Puffy asks with a smirk.

“Well...” Etho says.

---

Quackity wakes up with the sun in his eyes. In front of him is the public Nether portal, and standing right in front of it is a wide-eyed Sam, staring directly at him. Quackity looks down.

He’s naked, covered in half-dried honey, and tied to a pole like the world’s sexiest flag. And he’s got the world’s worst hangover-- it feels like he’s been hit in the head with a large rock.

“Not again,” he groans.

“...This happens often?” Sam asks.

“If I had a nickel for every time something like this has happened,” Quackity says, wiggling his way out of the ropes tying him to the pole, “I’d have enough money to go buy myself a pair of pants.”

Sam averts his eyes to the sky, abruptly aware of exactly why Quackity would feel the need to buy a pair of pants.

“Damn it,” Quackity says. “Those were my favorite pair of assless chaps.”

“Were they now,” Sam says numbly. The sky is quite blue today, it’s rather beautiful.

Quackity huffs in aggravation, finally having freed himself from his binds. “Yeah, they just don’t make ‘em like they used to, you know?”

“Not really, no,” Sam says slowly. “I wouldn’t know much about-- assless chaps.”

The naked man shrugs. Haltingly, Sam unclasps his cape, pulling it off his shoulders and offering it to Quackity.

“Nah,” Quackity says, “I’ll just streak.”

“Please don’t,” Sam says with pain in his eyes.

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #quackity #karl jacobs #sapnap #grian #ethoslab #stressmonster #zombiecleo #captain puffy #joe hills #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #awesamdude #me.cpp #me.txt

[shoot-the-oneshot]

Darkness Brings Protection

Not requested

Eric Northman x reader

Scanning across your make up spread out on your vanity that Eric insisted on putting in. You were getting ready for a party a friend was going to, she didn’t want to go alone so you get dragged along. Against Eric’s protests, the host wanted a human only party so it’s in the middle of the day when the vamps were asleep, while you can see his worries, you were a big girl, if you can wrangle a Viking vampire you can handle a few humans. Putting the final touches on your hair, ignoring Eric’s grunts from where hes spread out on the bed behind you.

Usually he would be asleep at this hour but he wanted to be awake when you left.

Really he wanted to convince you to stay, but he did get to watch you get ready, which is a plus he loves how focused yet relaxed you look.

“Are you positive there’s nothing I can say or do that will make you stay?”

Eric lazily drawls, knowing you’re not going to change your mind, you’re a lot like him in that aspect. Giving one last glance in the mirror, you turn to your over protective vampire with a smile.

“If it makes you feel better, the worst that could happen would be I get drugged”

“That does not comfort me if that was your goal?”

Getting off the bed, raising to his full height. Prowling to where you stood, almost stalking you like a lion would a lamb. Standing as close as he could without touching you, having to tilt your neck to meet his eyes. Your chest barely brushing against his as you take a deep breath. “I need to go.”

“No you don’t.”

“Eric, I’ll be back before you wake up I promise.”

Standing on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him down for a quick kiss goodbye walking out the door before he can stop you. It was weird having a party in broad daylight, it didn’t have the same vibe that the darkness did. Sookie waking besides you to the drink table. Speaking in her thick Louisianan accent. “Thank you again Y/n, for coming with me.”

“No problem, but why did you want to come? This isn’t exactly you’re type of place.”

You asked, noting the anti vampire memorabilia decorating the house. You figured they didn’t like vampires based on the daylight party and the drink menu that includes holy water in all the mixes, was a little much if you asked me.

“This is a party for all the young vamp haters that go to the church, I thought if came I could change their minds.”

God Sookie, can’t you just leave things alone. She must’ve read you thoughts because she started to defend herself.

“Come on Y/n, you love the vampires too. I’ll do the talking you’re just here for support. Here drink this and have fun, you’ll be back with Eric before you know it.”

She says, handing you one of the solo cups a frat guy brought you both. While she walked away with him, no doubt talking his ear off. You stay in the kitchen wishing you would’ve stayed cuddled with your boyfriend.

Sookie was wrong, it’s been hours and you’re still here. The last thing you remember is the frat boy coming back and feeding you drink after drink which you needed to ignore all the hate he was spilling about vamps. You can handle alcohol your boyfriend owns a bar for goodness sake but this was different. Your vision was blurry around the edges, you could hear people talking but couldn’t make it out. You need to find Sookie now.

Throwing apologizes over your shoulder stumbling into people while looking for the peppy blonde. Practically draping yourself over her, heart dropping to your stomach when you find her in a similar position.

“Gather around folks, looks like we have two vamp lovers.”

Oh, so frat boy was the leader here if you can call him that. You told Sookie to drop it, but Eric told you not to go so you can’t be that angry, you didn’t listen either. Luckily you’re not as far gone as she is so you can see the sun getting closer to the horizon, you can imagine Eric prowling around his room like a beast locked in a cage just waiting to get out. No doubt feeling your emotions through your bond. You just had to keep him talking.

“This is a bad idea, just let us go and all is forgiven.”

Trying your best to get out of this on your own, barley supporting your friend as she keeps toppling over her feet. The frats laughs booming as everyone else joins in. The circle around you both getting tighter the more confident they became. Just a little more.

“Not so tough when your bloodsuckers aren’t here are you?”

Moving closer twirling a strand of your hair around his finger pushing both you and Sookie to the ground her falling on top of you. They are so focused on you they don’t notice the nearing danger. Taking as deep of a breath as you can with her weight above you.

“Eric!”

He’s there in the amount of time it takes for the group surrounding you to figure out what you’ve done when Eric storms in. Taking less then a second to asses the situation, seeing you disoriented and on the ground, laying waste to those who hurt you. Pam soon joining, although she wouldn’t admit it you both were close. You were probably the only human she liked, she was as angry as Eric was. Hugging Sookie closer, cringing as blood splatters on your face and clothes.

Flinching as a hand is placed on your arm, calming when Eric’s voice reaches your ear.

“It’s me älskling, it’s just me.”

Picking you up, resting your face on his shoulder while scanning over your body for injuries. Rubbing his face In your neck your scent relaxing him slightly. Ordering Pam to take Sookie to Bills, and call a cleaning crew to fix this mess. Running home you tucked safely in his arms, he was furious. He told you not to go, you did and you got hurt. He should’ve glamored you to stay, he promised he never would but he also promised to keep you safe. Which was a worst one to break.

Setting you softly on the bed, cleaning the blood off you while you try your best to focus on the man in front of you. You could feel the anger radiating off him, silently keeping to his work, tossing the towel to the side when he deemed you clean. Arms tense starting at the door, a quite Eric was more dangerous then a loud one.

“I’m sorry Eric.”

His head tilted down, glaring dangerously.

“I told you not to go, I’ve been around much longer did you think I may know what I’m speaking of.”

He growled, you could tell his fangs were out by the way he spoke. Now he’s pacing, trying to calm himself, he doesn’t want to leave you to do so. “I know.”

Stopping to kneel in front of you, lifting your head gently holding your chin, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. Sighing as he looks at you, the anger fading to the fear he felt when he though the almost lost you. He swore if his heart was beating it would’ve stopped when he saw you on the ground surrounded by foe.

“While it was a bad circumstances, it’s reassuring to know you were smart calling for me. You’re mine, you knew I’d protect you.”

Finally taking you in his arms, holding you tightly to his chest. His hand twisting in your hair keeping you close. Pam smiling to herself overhearing Eric comfort you from her spot at the bar upstairs. Tucking your face into his neck, you never want to leave him again, he’s your night in shining armor, if anyone knows anything about Eric it’s the he will protect what’s his, and one thing is for sure. You’re his.

❤️hope y’all liked it check out my prompt list and send requests ❤️

#eric northman x reader #eric northman imagine #true bloods #eric x reader

[dirtydragonthoughts]

The Cracks Beneath Your Feet: Part 4 (IDW2 Review Issue 10)

Pitch: Fear spreads through Cybertron, leading more and more citizens into the waiting arms of the Ascenticon movement—making Bumblebee’s new job as part of the Guard much more difficult. Meanwhile, Chromia and Windblade follow-up on a lead, but digging up the dirt will put them face-to-face with a new foe…

Review

After the action of the last issue, we are back to more politicking and positioning of pieces on the chessboard. People who read Transformers comics for the explosions and battles would be disappointed in this issue, but it's definitely helping set up the explosion that everyone can see sparking on the horizon.

There are some very interesting dynamics being set up in this issue, most notably between Megatron and Shockwave. The scheming scientist is back to his Marvel role as someone who's not totally onside with Megatron's aims (and would prefer to be the one calling the shots), but who is quite willing to use Megatron as a means to an end. To that light, it's very clear that Megatron has set some things in motion – some purposefully, some not – that are starting to roll in the wrong direction.

To use the chess analogy again, Shockwave is a piece that Megatron plays poorly.

The issue ends with the previously-announced return of Sentinal Prime, and he is PISSED.

Favourite Panel

Angry Prowl is always an easy way to get my undivided attention.

Culture

The issue starts off with a silent march for Brainstorm and Rubble, a protest in their honour. Elita-1 also mentions that there are similar marches happening all over the planet, in places like Uraya and Crystal City.

Planet

Um. Skitters apparently go squish when you run over them.

Physiology

And we have our first real sighting of a titan! Sentinel Prime's ship is actually a titan named Lodestar, who we get to meet in a future issue. She lands and transformers after her passengers disembark, and I loved her as soon as I saw her. 💗

Politics and History

When I picture a Senate, I think of a large gathering of representatives. However, Orion and Megatron attend a meeting of Senators that looks like it's only got six people in attendance. So I presume that this is a special council (perhaps one given to lead while Sentinel Prime is away). This is backed up by the little circles over each of their chairs. Orion mentions that the Autobots hold twice the Senate seats of any other faction. On their seats, Orion's got four orbs, Megatron has two, Heretech and Crisscross have one each. I thought that was a neat little way to show their relative importance!

In his meeting with Megatron, Shockwave mentions he was one of the people exiled by Nominus Prime.

Final Thoughts

Definitely not as action-packed as the last one, and yet another setup issue, but I can kind of see where we're going. But again, this part of the continuity definitely reads better in a chunk, rather than issue-by-issue.

👍

#idw2 spoilers #idw2 review #transformers #maccadam #world building stuff

[solynaceawrites]

Subhuman

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, fem!Reader Tags: Smut, PWP, Porn No Plot, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Masturbation, Monster Sex Rating: Explicit Summary: The first time you have sex with Dante after he returns from the underworld, you learn just what it means to be his mate. Note: This came about after an interesting conversation in a server about Dante’s dick when he’s using SDT. Specifically, how it’s shaped. It’s also my first true foray into what I would call monster-fucking fics, so, uh . . . I hope you enjoy?

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The first time you’d seen Dante’s Sin Devil Trigger, you’d been trying to haul Nero’s dumb ass out of Urizen’s throne room. Your first thought had been, what the fuck, followed quite quickly by, that’s a nice ass, and you’d done your best to shove both of those to the side, as being stuck in the middle of a demonic tree was not the best time to be ogling your lover. The second had been a glimpse from the distance as he dove into the underworld, just a streak of burning orange across the sky and into the ground. You’d been more than pissed that he’d left, especially without so much as a good-bye, and you’d made that known to Morrison when he gave you the deed to the Devil May Cry. “He better not come back,” you’d said irritably, “unless he wants me to shoot him.”

But Dante’s disappearance, particularly after seeing that new form of his, left you with a rather particular problem. You’d told him once that you loved all of him; that love had extended into your sex life, and it’d been becoming more frequent for the dick he fucked you with to be scaled instead of flesh, for the hands that dug into your hips to be tipped with claws fit to tear through steel. You didn’t have much of an interest in finding someone else to date—Dante had truly been one of a kind—and there were times when the nice, normal dildo you kept tucked away in your bedside table just didn’t cut the trick. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like them. They’d always worked fine whenever Dante had to take an overnight job. It was the fact that thinking about Dante led to you remembering his easy grin and the way he felt curled around you at night, making the pain of his being gone much more apparent. The easiest option was to think about his other form; that one hadn’t made you coffee, or kissed the top of your head in passing, or told you how much it loved you. The problem with that was it was a bit disorienting thinking about a demonic dick while using a human one. So, you’d found a website that hosted an . . . unusual assortment, and selected one you thought was probably the closest match to a cock you’d never gotten to see.

You’d gotten one you could actually use, since some of the sizes they offered were a bit much.

The day it arrived, you’d closed the shop and gone to the room you used to share with Dante. The dildo, a model with a name you forgot almost as soon as you read it, was mouthwatering. Thick and ribbed and the size of your forearm, with a girth you couldn’t fully fit your fingers around, and you’d been careful as you used it for the first time. A lot of lubrication and plenty of time to let your body adjust around each inch, and you’d been so full that you’d come as soon as the base brushed your mound.

It was a particular favorite after that. You had a rather extensive collection of toys, from vibrators to dildos to other assorted odds and ends, and any time you’d been missing Dante’s demon cock, you’d pulled it out. Sometimes, if you were particularly riled up, you’d use a vibrator against your clit, and those were the times when you were so shaky-legged afterwards that you needed a day to recover fully.

That’s not to say you didn’t just miss Dante, because you did. The best you slept was with one of his shirts clutched to your chest, and you’d always leave a few slices of pizza untouched whenever you ordered in case he showed up and was hungry. Of course, leave it to him to pick the worst timing to come back home: you, taking a well-deserved shower that you weren’t expecting to be interrupted by the devil hunter, and if he’d gotten smacked between the eyes with a shampoo bottle, he more than deserved it. 

Two weeks short of a year since he’d left, Dante had been back. You’d yelled at him, cried more than you ever had before, and he absorbed it all, his grin turning to a sheepish smile and then outright guilt the longer you laid into him. Part of you felt bad for it. He’d probably been expecting something out of the movies, where you ran into his arms and kissed him senseless, like you had when you’d been reunited in the tree. But he hadn’t chosen to leave you behind then, and the hurt you felt not only at his leaving but at his sauntering back in had quashed that little protest. And when he’d tried to make it up to you the way he always did, you told him he could either keep his hands to himself or sleep on the couch.

Life hadn’t exactly gone back to normal in the following month—there was a lot to talk about, and you did, and he listened—but just having him back was a good enough start as far as you were concerned.

“Dante,” you call. When he doesn’t answer, you pull your head from the fridge, frowning at the empty seat behind his desk. You need his help deciding what to do for dinner and, unless he wants an anchovy-pickle-mayonnaise sandwich, the two of you are going to have to get something delivered. “Dante!”

“Bedroom!” he shouts back.

You take the climb the stairs and head into the bedroom, intending to ask him if he wants lo mein or pizza, only to freeze when you see him sitting on the bed, cradling that damned dildo in his palms. “Uh . . .?”

Dante grins at you, and you try not to flush under his heavy gaze. Sex has been off the table while the two of you work through the hurt his leaving caused, and, with him around, you’d taken to carrying the dildo into the bathroom with you whenever you needed some relief. You must have tossed it onto the bed after your afternoon shower, probably intending to put it up after you got dressed only to forget, and while you don’t think he’s angry, he certainly seems bemused. “Nice toy,” is all he says.

“Uh.”

“Color’s especially interesting. In fact, I’d say it looks pretty damn similar to mine.” He taps the rubber before dragging his finger along a prominent ridge. “Even this. I’d known you missed me this badly, I’d have bent you over the desk as soon as I walked in the door.”

“What do you mean, if you’d known?” Your voice is harsher than you intend from your mortification, and Dante blinks as you stalk forward to yank it from his hands. “Did you think I was having parties while you were in the underworld?” It’s not fair to say, and you know it’s not, but there’s a vicious satisfaction when he frowns. You toss the dildo onto the bed and fold your arms. “I missed you like hell. I’ve told you how hard those months without you were. So, if I wanted to buy a dildo that reminded me of your dick to help with that, it’s none of your business, and you can forget bending me over anything while you’re at it!”

He doesn’t argue, which helps your irritation a little. “Sorry, doll. It just caught me off guard. Though . . .” The way he tilts his head reminds you so much of a big dog that it’s ridiculous, especially with his shaggy hair. “You know you can have the real thing, right?”

“Maybe I like it better,” you retort.

You know the challenge you’re laying at his feet, and a thrill goes up your spine when his smile takes on a predatory edge as he stands. “Is that right? Maybe we should test it, just to be sure.” Dante peels his shirt over his head and your mouth goes dry at the sight of his chest, broad and covered with fine silver hairs. This was why you’d wanted to wait on sex for a while. The moment he lays on the charm, your anger goes right out of the window, which isn’t always the best thing when there’s an issue to solve. For now, though, you decide that it’s fine, and you lean against the wall and cock a brow. Come and get me.

There’s a flash of heat that has you wincing. When you open your eyes, it’s to see the horns and claws and fangs you’ve dreamed of since the first sighting in the tree, and you hold your breath as Dante prowls towards you, his claws ticking against the hardwood floor. He crowds you against the wall and peers down at you. Dante’s already a good head taller than you when he’s human; now, you have to crane your head back to look at his chin, and he kneels to be eye-level with you, his maw parting so his tongue can slide over your cheek. The rough surface of it has goosebumps breaking out along your arms as you think of what it’s going to feel like rubbing over your clit, and when it slides over your lips you part them to suck it into your mouth. 

Dante growls, his breath fire-hot where it fans along your cheek. You almost don’t notice him cutting through your clothing until cold air caresses your skin; with a gasp, you draw back, and his hand grips your waist to pull you up so his face is level with your chest. “Pretty,” he rumbles, the sound thick and foreign and full of gravel, and you grasp at his horns when he curls that ridged tongue around your breast. The tip flicks your nipple, making you squirm from the prickles of pleasure it causes, and, with a laugh that’s ash and smoke, he rubs over it firmly.

And, gods above, you’re probably going to finish from that alone.

It’s heaven: rough and slick and warm, his saliva thick as it coats your flesh, making the friction so much silkier. You tug at his horns a futile attempt for more, though what more is, you don’t know. Not like he can do much else with his teeth the size of daggers, but his touch has awoken something greedy within you that clamors urgently for attention. When he shifts to give the same attention to your other breast, you nearly sob, and your nipples are peaked and stiff and tender by the time he’s through. 

His  hands cup your rear and lift you, yelping, so that your sex is in front of his mouth. The claws on his wings hook your wrists to pull your arms above your head as he braces your knees over his shoulders, and you can’t stop the whimper you let out when those teeth graze your mound. There’s a low rumbling from his chest as he breathes you in, and then you watch as his fangs part as his tongue slides between your folds. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whine. “Dante . . .”

He licks you exactly how you like—his tongue thick and flat and rubbing firmly from your ass to your clit—but the texture is something else entirely, and you’d be rocking desperately against him if he weren’t holding you still. He slips it within your weeping sex, and you nearly scream when it folds on itself so he can lash the tip against your quivering pearl; it hadn’t seem so long at first, but now you understand why he’s got difficulty talking in this form. Not that you care if he speaks or not. As long as he keeps fucking you like he is, he can stay quiet. Every time his tongue flexes within you, you keen, and his answering pants send heated air along your labia and thighs, only heightening the pleasure that you’re already drowning in. You come in no time at all, but he doesn’t stop. Dante keeps right on working your body until a second orgasm follows hard and fast on the heels of the first, leaving your back bowing as you cry out his name.

Your legs are too weak by the time it fades for you to stand. Dante carries you easily over to the bed, lowering you back down so your head doesn’t smack into the fan, nuzzling your stomach and crooning sweetly against your skin. You don’t know what he’s doing, but something about the sound relaxes you so you’re limp when he deposits you on the mattress. Then you catch sight of his cock, and you lift yourself into a sitting position, your eyes wide.

The damn thing is huge. Dante already is, but this form of his adds length and girth, and it glows the same fiery orange as his eyes and the cracks in his armor. The top of it is covered with darker plates that taper off as they wrap around the vibrant underside, and those plates are covered with tiny, ridged bumps; the shaft of it flares twice, thickening in the middle, and the flared tip that you remember has some sort of swirl that narrows it at the slit and has it widening into protrusions where it meets the shaft. At the base you can see what you assume are his balls, held tight to the shaft, and there’s a small part where it meets his pelvis that looks perfect for stimulating your clit. You think, is that even going to fit? Then, I’ll make it fit.

There’s fluid dripping from the tip that you have the most insane urge to taste. It’s thick, a bit darker than normal, and you lean forward to drag your tongue over the slit. Dante hisses a warped version of your name as you lap at the head, gathering as much of the precum as you can before swallowing. It tastes sharp and rich, with a faintly spiced undertone, and it leaves a tingling trail from your lips down to your stomach. You’re not entirely sure, but you’re pretty certain that it’s an aphrodisiac of some kind, maybe meant to either get his partner in the mood or make it easier for him to get that monster between his legs inside of them. Or both. 

Either way, you’re going to combust if he doesn’t fuck you soon.

But how to make it work? Humming, you shift onto your hands and knees, but it still doesn’t quite line up right. “Dante, I think—hey!”

The bed creaks warningly as he settles between your legs. His thighs press you nearly wider than is comfortable, and the heat of his body blasts against your back when he leans over you, one of his clawed hands bracing next to your own. You study the armor plating at his wrist for a moment, but the feeling of his head nudging insistently at your opening has you digging your fingers into the quilt, a breathless, “Please,” falling from your lips.

 Slowly, he pushes it within your opening. Your mouth hangs open in a groan as it stretches you; there’s no pain, just the same tingling you’d felt when you swallowed his precum, and you realize that your assumption was right. Still, as he carefully thrusts deeper, you’re not sure how much of it you’re going to be able to take, a thought that’s reinforced when the head of him is fully inside and your walls squeeze around it. He’s barely gotten started and you feel fuller than you ever had in your life, and when he presses forward so your lips open around the first flare of his shaft, you cry out, your legs trembling. The second flare sliding leisurely into your sex has you coming for the third time, all of this little ridges you’d noticed and the ribbing along the sides more than enough to have your head spinning. By the time his hips are flush to your rear and his sac is nestled snugly against your clit, you’re boneless in his grasp, and you understand, through the haze, one very clear fact.

Dante is going to ruin you.

He moves slowly, carefully, letting you adjust to his size as he pants hotly against your shoulder, and you mewl every time he rocks his hips. You’re honestly not certain how much more you can handle; each tentative thrust has those flares and ridges stretching your cunt, presses the head of him against something within you that adds a faint dash of pain to the overwhelming pleasure. His teeth prick your skin and you gasp, scrabbling for purchase against the sheets as his hips pick up the pace until you’re rocking over the mattress, rocked forward by every powerful roll of his hips. The sound of his body driving into yours fills the room along with your desperate cries, and all of it only seems to spur him on. The heat radiating from him ramps up as his claws tear through the quilt, and his fangs become better acquainted with your shoulders and the back of your neck, each mark he leaves drawing a moan from your throat.

Dante reaches beneath you to cup your stomach, keeping you lifted as he fucks you senseless. He growls something that sounds like, “Mine,” when he presses you up, and you nearly scream at the new angle, the new depth. Forget tomorrow or the next day, you’re going to need at least a week before you can go out in the field again. 

“Dante,” you whimper, “Dante, baby, please—”

He grunts and draws out, leaving you breathless. Then he takes hold of your hips and flips you onto your back before sheathing himself within you again, and this time you do scream as that protrusion you’d noticed earlier bears down on your clit as he fills you. Every time he moves, it presses and grinds against your pearl, lending a desperate edge to the coil tightening in your stomach. Dimly you’re aware of his face drawing closer, and you don’t hesitate to open your mouth when his tongue nudges at your lips, sucking on his flesh eagerly. You’re close, so close, and when he thrusts roughly enough to nearly knock you into the headboard as his tongue grazes the back of your throat, you fall apart, consumed by him. 

Wave upon wave of bliss wracks your body, which bows under and squeezes around his. And he doesn’t let up, rutting into you with growls and rasping groans that have your blood on fire until you’re dizzy and light-headed and your ears ring from the force of it all. You don’t know how much longer he works his body within yours, teetering on the brink of blackness, but you feel his tongue leave your mouth so he can sink his teeth into the flesh where your shoulder meets your neck, and the pain of that is blurred and diluted by the pleasure that comes when the first scorching wave of his seed fills you. On and on he comes, so that it smears along your thighs and pools on the sheets beneath you, so that you wonder if it’s ever going to end.

But end it does. With a lick over the wound he’s left, he draws out, and there’s a faint noise as he does so. More of his seed flows out, still hot enough to nearly be scalding, and you whine at the sensation of being so full and yet so empty at the same time. The sound of his footfalls shifts as he crosses the room from talons to bare feet; when he returns, he’s human again, and he kisses you gently as he lifts you from the bed. “Sorry, darlin’,” he murmurs. “It’s been so long, and I . . . Well. Guess I made a mess, huh?”

“A good one,” you mumble.

Dante chuckles and sets you down in the bathroom, and you watch sleepily as he fills a tub with warm water and your favorite bath foam. “You relax. I’m gonna go change the sheets.”

You nod, and he helps you into the bath, where you sink into the warmth with a groan. There’s a dull ache already forming between your thighs, and your shoulder is going to hurt like hell tomorrow if you don’t do something about it, but you’re far too tired right now to work even the simplest of healing spells. Besides, you think, he’d left that there as a reminder of his love for you, so you’re not exactly complaining. Dante comes back right as the water is getting cool enough that you want to get out, and he dries you off with a fluffy towel before once more picking you up and carrying you back into the bedroom.

You’re half-asleep by the time your head hits the pillows, though you manage to hold on long enough for him to turn off the lights and join you, his weight warm and familiar at your back. “Dante?” 

“Hm?”

“Welcome home.”

He pauses, his arm tightening around your waist as he buries his face in your hair. “I’m back, sweetheart. And I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

#dmc #devil may cry #dante sparda #dante/reader #dante x reader #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #writing #oneshot #myfic #subhuman

[tmntgirlie]

Hi! I would like to make a request for TMNT 2014/16 (bayverse). The reader is a vigilante like the rest of the gang and she has known everyone for a few years. She has grown closer to the leader in blue and they are like a couple. And one day she (the reader) gets kidnapped and no one knows where she is. Two years later on a mission they find her locked up in their enemies prison and saves her. Or you know, you can make up and ending, but she was missing for like two years at least. Thanks! :)

Sorry this took so long! I tried to make this as fluid as possible but I’m crap at writing fighting scenes haha. Hope you like it! <3

~

There wasn’t a day that you weren’t on his mind.

Not a day went by that he didn’t scour the internet for your name.

For two years, five months, and eight days, you had been missing.

Leonardo struggled within himself during your absence.

At first, he absolutely did not believe you were gone. There was no way you would allow yourself to simply vanish from the face of the Earth. You were a fighter- giving up was not in your vocabulary.

Then he was angry. He didn’t come out of his room for days on end. He refused to believe you just allowed yourself to be taken. How could you? Was this your only way to escape your life with him? With his brothers? Did you secretly not enjoy their friendships?

Donatello had managed to talk some sense into Leo after he tried to send threatening messages to every enemy he could think of.

“If she’s really out there, those threats are empty. Imagine what they’d do to her. They have the upper hand.”

Nobody really understood the relationship between you and Fearless. To be honest, he didn’t understand it, either. You had kissed a few times, even said those three magic words, but neither of you put any sort of label on it.

Don, Raph, and Mikey saw you as a sister-figure. Your being taken hadn’t been easy on them by any stretch of the imagination.

But it was painfully obvious that he who took it the hardest was Leonardo.

Life was now back to ‘normal’, as normal as their lives could be. Almost nightly patrols, visits from April and Casey, constant lectures and life-lessons taught by Splinter.

Leo’s most common Google search, however, was now your name.

It was your name. It was your name with all the different spellings. It was your nicknames, various spellings of that as well. It was your alter-ego, and all the different spellings of that.

He absolutely refused to believe that you were gone for good. You had too much yet to accomplish in your life, there was too much fire left in you. It was one of the things he liked the most about you. He just had to have hope.

“Leonardo? Earth to Leonardo? It’s time to go.”

“Right. Come on, guys.”

Only two ‘activities’ ever really cleared Leo’s mind. Patrolling and meditating. He had only recently gotten over feeling guilty over these things. He came to the conclusion that you probably wouldn’t like him being distracted by you when he had other things that needed to be done.

It was a fairly quiet night in the city. Nights like these had used to be hard to come by, but they became more frequent recently.

“Should we grab a pizza or something on the way back, Leo? I’m starving.”

“Yes, Mikey, we can grab a pizza. Now focus.”

“Focus on what? There’s nothing happening here! Should we call it a night?”

Something was in the air. Something was different.

Leonardo held up his arm to silence his brother. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep inhale.

It was familiar.

“Leo, what’s wrong-”

“Quiet!” he snapped.

It was so familiar. A scent that hadn’t filled his nose in years.

There was no way.

He started to run.

Every few blocks, he would stop to take a whiff again and change direction if needed. His heart was pounding. It felt like he was in a dream. He didn’t even care if he was seen or if his brothers were following him. This was now his mission.

The scent brought him to the edge of the city to the docks. It was getting stronger- he knew he was close.

His ninja-side kicked in as he prowled around, hiding behind storage containers. He swore he heard your voice in the sea of noise around him. He stayed quiet.

He chanted your name in his head like a mantra. This had to be it. He had to have found you.

“I told you to leave me alone!”

It was you. He knew it was.

“Quiet, Y/N, don’t need ya attracting unwanted attention. Remember our deal.”

“Fuck our deal. I’m out. Let me go.”

His girl, his Y/N, was being held captive? But most of all, was alive?

Leonardo could no longer contain himself.

He burst out from behind the storage container. He didn’t care if he was to be seen by any number of civilians. He was determined to bring you home. At last.

But when he came out from the shadows, all he could see was Y/N herself doing what she did best. Kicking ass and taking name.

Ten men surrounded her, all wearing similar encrusted jackets and hoods. It wasn’t a gang or anything that he recognized.

When he determined that you could handle yourself, he found himself leaning against the crate, watching in awe. You were stronger. There was no mercy in your eyes. Even in the dim dock light he could see scars dusted along your arms that weren’t there the day you disappeared.

In less than a minute, you were surrounded by the men now moaning and groaning on the floor. Your breath hitched when you saw Leonardo just standing there, watching.

“Leo?”

Your voice sounded so small compared to just a minute ago.

You ran to him like your life depended on it. “Leonardo!”

The ‘no mercy’ look was now replaced with fear and shame as you pressed yourself tightly to his plastron. He wasted no time wrapping his arms tightly around your small form.

“Y/N, where have you been?” He kissed the top of your head. “I thought I lost you.”

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered against him.

[miqojak]

13. Can you share a favorite piece of writing advice?

I saw this question posed to an author, yesterday, in the interview in the back of her book, and her answer was 'read poetry'...which I can not only second, but follow with 'read a book.' Or re-read a favorite - especially if you're feeling writer's block. Take inspiration from the people who whisk you away into their worlds; take inspiration from your favorite RPer's writing. What about their writing sweeps you up? Enjoy the book the first time, then go back in with a critical eye and look at how they phrase things. It's okay to emulate another's style, and make it your own. There's a lot of writing advice out there. I reblog a lot of it. And my top advice remains 'show don't tell' and 'use a thesaurus'. Don't tell me 'she's beautiful' - is she? Well, I might think she's hideous, so don't tell me what I think! Tell me what she looks like! Let me decide if I think she's beautiful. Don't tell me he's angry, describe what it looks or feels like - think about how your own emotions make you look or feel, and try to capture that. (ie - do you go red in the face? Do you fall silent and still? Do you storm off? Present the actions and the visuals and let the reader interpret and visualize.)

As for 'use a thesaurus', well - it spices things up to use a less commonly used word/an alternate version of a word that is similar, but evokes a different feeling. I recall assisting someone with their writing several years back, and the example being a few lines about his OC walking down the hall. And if you just say 'She walked down the hall', it's kinda boring. What's the context? Is she being sneaky? Then say something more like 'She crept, one careful step at a time, down the narrow hallway.' Is she angry? Then she's stomping down the hall, her fury practically palpable in her wake. It's about phrasing things in a manner that really lets the reader visualize and feel what's going on.

"Her strides were long and quick - purposeful - brows drawn tight, features darkened, as she carved a path down the length of the hallway...a storm was quickly approaching, and they all knew better than to intervene at this point."

"She picked her way down the length of the hallway - steps light, but quick, prowling with a practiced ease between the shadows."

(You really change the mood and visualization of a similar scene with just a few words.) It doesn't have to be 'purple prose', but it should be more than bare bones, as well. Add a little spice. And if you're not sure how...return to tip #1: Read a book. Read your favorite book. Read a book that you recall that one line from that really just painted a beautiful mind-picture for you. (Or...ask that person whose writing you admire. More people are willing to assist than you think.)

#thanks for asking! #writing tips #writing advice #I fucking love writing #I just suck at world building

[nineteenninety-six]

Cheater Cheater - Part 2

Here’s part two! I’m not sure I like but eh. I made Tommy into a massive asshole in this but truly speaking, he’s always an asshole so lol

I also watched Knives Out last night and omg!! What a great fucking movie, like holy shit. Fun fact, I’m a film student but I’m not a big fan of watching films lol

TAG LIST: @shadow-of-wonder @stassiebabyy @dayna041101 @kingarthurscat @soleil-dor @gothicwidowsworld @captivatedbycillianmurphy @porcelainjokersmadness @futuristicslimemongerbanana 

(I can’t tag some of the people who asked so I’ll see if I can tag you in the notes or smth)

WORD COUNT: 1837 

[PART ONE] 

(Y/N) strolled into the distillery, Alfie’s men greeting her as she passed by. It was nearly one pm and (Y/N) decided to bring her husband lunch, knowing that if she didn’t, he wouldn’t eat until dinner, where she would force him to eat with her.

Alfie’s tendency to spend all day working and less time eating and sleeping reminded her of a certain someone from her past, one that she had tried so hard to forget about over the past three years but it didn’t help that Alfie was very similar to him.

(Y/N) had met Alfie just a few days after she had arrived in London. She had gotten a room at a boarding house with the bit of money she had left with and was prowling the streets of London looking for a job when she had stumbled into a bakery in Camden after a long day of walking around looking for jobs and getting rejected. She had only initially gone in there to buy herself a snack but in a moment of desperation, she had asked if there were any jobs going and just after the man said there wasn’t, the hulking form of a man who had walked into the shop through the back had interrupted the man and told her there was a job vacancy. The man had introduced himself as Alfie Solomons and he was the owner of the bakery and after a brief meeting, he gave her a job of the bookkeeper for the bakery.

As time went on, (Y/N) found herself getting closer and closer to Alfie and after a few months of not so subtle flirting, Alfie had asked her out to dinner as a date and the rest was history. (Y/N) fell for Alfie hard and fast, she had doubts about being in a relationship after what had happened with Tommy and feared that she would never love someone like how she loved Tommy but Alfie quickly erased those fears and doubts and he quickly became the love of her life. (Y/N) had thought that Tommy was the one for her but after a lot of thinking, she realised that her relationship with Tommy was one-sided, she gave him all the love and affection she could whilst he could barely be bothered to reciprocate. To Tommy, she was a someone who loved him unconditionally and would do pretty much anything for him and of course, he didn’t want to throw that away, his affair with Grace wasn’t probably the only time he had cheated on her and as she spent more time with Alfie, (Y/N) realised that she hadn’t truly loved him, not like how she loved Alfie.

Alfie had treated her like a princess, always taking her out and buying her things and if she hadn’t told him that she didn’t care about those materialistic things and all she wanted was him and his love, he would still be spoiling her to this day, though he still has those moments where he gifts her extravagant and expensive things.

After a year of dating, Alfie had proposed and they married only a few months after his proposal. Their wedding was small, only a few of Alfie’s friends in attendance but (Y/N) had no-one. Despite how much she missed Ada and Polly and how much she wanted them there at her wedding, she thought it was best to cut off everyone from or connected to the Shelby family, it was only way she was going to live a safe and peaceful life, though her opinion on living a peaceful and safe life quickly changed after she was followed by a small group of men shortly after the wedding. Luckily for her, some of Alfie’s men had seen what was happening and dealt with them before anything could happen to her but it meant that night Alfie was quietly explaining about what he actually did for a living and how the bakery was just a front to his distillery business before begging and pleading for her not to leave him. (Y/N) had spent a couple of days locked up in one of the guest bedrooms, thinking about her future with Alfie and whether or not being married to a gangster is what she really wants and after those few days of thinking, she left the guest bedroom and tripped over Alfie who had been sitting outside of her door and she was pretty sure she saw tears in his eyes when she told him that she would stay with him and that she had no plan on leaving, not that he would admit he was tearing up anyway.

(Y/N) was happy and content with Alfie and he never got her involved with his illegal business, allowing her to manage to the bakery instead. Her almost three years with Alfie were pretty much perfect.

“Is in Ollie?” (Y/N) asked Alfie’s assistant, Ollie.

“Yes, Mrs Solomons but he has a meeting in a bit” Ollie gave her a smile.

“Ah okay, I won’t be long then.” With one last wave, (Y/N) left Ollie’s desk and made her way over to Alfie’s office.

(Y/N) knocked on the door before she stepped in, a wide smile coming over her face as she locked eyes with her husband.

“Mrs Solomons, how wonderful it is to see ya” Alfie smiled as he leant back on his chair.

“You’re in a good mood, Alf.” (Y/N) made her way over to him, placing the bag with Alfie’s lunch on it on his desk.

“My lovely wife has decided to come visit me, why wouldn’ ah be?” Alfie pushed himself out of his chair and walked around his desk so he could stand in front of (Y/N).

“Uh-hmm” (Y/N) hummed before she pushed herself up on her tippy-toes so that she kiss Alfie.

“Not that I don’t like to see ya luv but what’s the special occasion?” Alfie slowly walked back towards his chair, dragging (Y/N) along with him.

“I brought you some lunch, I know what you’re like.” (Y/N) allowed herself to be pulled by Alfie.

“Ahh!” (Y/N) let out a small shriek as she was suddenly pulled down as Alfie slumped down into his seat.

“Sorry darlin’” Alfie smiled at her, his large hand running up and down her thigh.

“No, you’re not, you horrible person.” (Y/N) muttered.

Alfie simply grinned at her before pulling her into a kiss.

A knock on the door along with Ollie announcing that the person Alfie was supposed to meet had arrived, had the couple pulling away from the kiss. (Y/N) hopped off of Alfie’s lap whilst the man glared at Ollie- or rather the door to his office that separated them for interrupting.

“Stop pouting Alf.” (Y/N) smiled at her husband.

Alfie good-naturedly rolled his eyes before shouting to Ollie to let the man in.

(Y/N) was too busy saying goodbye to Alfie and making sure that he remembered to eat the lunch she bought him to pay attention to who walked it but when Ollie announced who the person was, she left like a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over her and when she looked at the man with wide eyes, she found her ex-boyfriend looking back at her with surprise written on his face.

“(Y/N)?”

“T-tommy?” “How do you know my wife, Shelby?” Alfie had stood up, his large form standing behind her and a strong, comforting hand resting on the small of her back.

Tommy said nothing, still staring in shock at (Y/N) so Alfie asked (Y/N) instead.

“(Y/N)?”

“This is Tommy, I-uh, my ex from when I was in Birmingham.” (Y/N) said, reaching behind her searching for Alfie’s hand, gripping it tightly when she found it.

“The one who had cheated on you?” Alfie tensed up and growled.

“Yeah…” (Y/N) whispered.

Ollie had smartly escaped and (Y/N) was wishing that she too could escape.

“So you left me for another gangster eh?” Tommy scoffed, disbelief on his face.

“No” (Y/N) retorted, feeling insulted by Tommy’s insinuation, “I left you because you cheated on me and treated me like rubbish Thomas.”

“You blew it out of proportion. You know that if a man cheats on you, it’s because you’re lacking and he has to seek elsewhere.”

Alfie growled, ready to shout at Tommy but (Y/N) spoke up before he did,

“So you sought your way into the Irish whore’s bed who also ended up being a spy that got your brother-in-law thrown into jail and in turn severed your relationship with your only sister? Or how about when she nearly got you killed and the business ruined? I wasn’t the fucking problem Tommy, you were. You and your massive ego.”

(Y/N) didn’t know where all that came from but she was glad she spoke up and finally spoke her mind.

Tommy grit his teeth, “That’s been resolved, everything ended up fine.”

“Oh so I guess you’re still with Grace if everything ended up being fine”

Tommy’s jaw ticked as he hesitated to answer and (Y/N) instantly knew what had happened. She guessed that she was able to read him after all those years together.

“She’s left?” (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh, “So she spied on you, betrayed you and left you.”

Tommy just glared at her.

“Good, you deserve it.” (Y/N) shook her head, a small smile on her face.

Tommy was visibly angry and opened his mouth, most likely to yell abuse at (Y/N) but Alfie cut in,

“While it was great to see ya mate,” Alfie says, sarcasm dripping from his voice before he switched to a serious and intimidating growl, “I never wanna see you again, now piss off.”

Tommy opened his mouth to argue but Alfie interrupted yet again, “Any business we might have had is finished and if I see you or anyone from your fuckin’ gang around (Y/N) or in Camden, I will kill you.”

Tommy glared one more time at them before storming out of Alfie’s office, the door slamming loudly behind him.

When (Y/N) was sure Tommy was gone, she turned around and cried into Alfie’s chest. Alfie simply wrapped his arms around and slowly rocked them from side to side, whispering comforting words to her along with pressing soft kisses on her head.

When (Y/N) had stopped crying, she slightly pulled away from Alfie and looked up at him, “I’m sorry Alf.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for luv. Don’t worry about him or anyone else eh, you and me are the only one who matter.” Alfie soothed her

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around Alfie and hugged him tightly, grateful for him and his love and support for her. She was glad she had found someone who loved and appreciated her for who she was.

#tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #alfie solomons imagines #alfie solomons x reader #imagines #x reader #angst #peaky blinder fanfic #alfie solomons imagine #fanfic #alfie solomons