#prowl is so horrible to write about

[yaut-jaknowit]

How about a human womans gets pregnant with a yautja (They are probably in a lab). The male escapes and takes her back to his clan and hands her off to the females of the clan. And instead of falling in love with the male, the sire of the unborn pup. the human womans gets together with another female who is teaching the ways of the yautja. Maybe the male stops by here n there...

Lose Yourself

Pairings: Male Yautja x AFAB!Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 4039

Summary: Four concrete walls have been your sight for the last year. Caregivers and doctors see you every day to ensure your heath. Then three months ago, they introduced you to him. A creature not from this world that you can tell. He does not speak but the two of you have an understanding and one another.

Author Note: When this popped up in my feed, I started to bounce off of the walls like a crazed animal. I love this idea so much. In the future, I would love to write out a whole story like this. For now, I'm just going to do at least two parts, maybe three for this.

Part 2

Masterlist

Ao3

Blaring sirens jolt you back into reality. Your heart instantly leaps into your throat and lodges itself there. The whites of your eyes clear even in the limited light of the dingy cell you dared to call home.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around your knees and carefully watched the only entrance and exit to this singular, minute room. The alarm meant something. Terrible things. Nothing ever good came from it. Your head was plastered to the tops of your knees as you observed for any incoming threat.

This wasn’t a horrible life. Three meals a day; seen by doctors – or at least what looked to be doctors – practically every day; clothing on your body. But the fact you weren’t allowed to leave the room unless they wanted you or you didn’t have anything to stimulate your brain. Just an animal on the verge of insanity, forced to be driven there with no relief.

The people who keep you locked in here are the only people you are able to interact with. It’s one sided. You lost your will to try and gain any words besides the casual ‘how are you feeling today?’ from them. They might mix it up after some time but it was always the same doctor-patient relationship.

Out of everything here though, what caught your attention was the thing they brought you to a few times before. Everything about him is locked down and sealed tight from both sides. Not even a name from the lumbering giant.

From the limited times you’ve got to interact with him, you’ve learned he wasn’t a nice character. At first, he had nearly torn you apart before he had jerked to a stop. Akin to a horrified look passed over his alien features and he backed away. After that day, he’s been reasonable to be around. For some reason, your ‘caregivers’ love to know how you interact with him or what he’ll do if… you were some sort of danger.

Not the most protective creature, he’ll snarl and growl if the guards are too rough with you. His chains prevent him from doing anything physical. Once you are completely alone with him though, the chains that keep him locked to the wall are slackened. He’s now allowed to move about the vicinity as he seems fit.

Move he does. He stalks, prowls around the room, searching for any way for escape. They way he moves gives you the hint he’s this predator, like a lion hunting its prey. When you watch him, you admire him and prowess.

Wishful thinking makes you pray for him to find a weakness and escape from this horrid place. The chains on his wrists are more than tight. It’s daily occurrence blood drips from cuts. He tries to hide it, obscure it from sight but the eyes are the window to the soul. You are able to read his pain, every wince when the chains rub just a hair too much. You worry about him, this creature that was no human.

The first time he allowed you to touch him was a miracle. When the session was over, you were immediately yanked from the premises and shoved into a different room. Your caregivers began to berate and demand answers on why he was allowing you such contact. As the clueless person you are, you just shrugged your shoulders.

That night, they left you with a few more bruises than usual.

The door swung open and revealed a guard and a caregiver. Same protocols as always. You were taken from your room and swiftly led further down to what you believed to be the lowest level of this complex. The entire way there, you were compliant and willing. You’ve done your fair share of fighting, everything in your power to leave this place.

But it never worked. It wasn’t truly accepting your fate but going along the motions. Your mind has long grown numb, completely stale to everything. It needed stimulation but no one offered that.

A quick shove had you toppling onto your hands and knees. A loud snarl and rattling chains, metal creaking from tremendous amount of weight thrown against echoed in the limited space. You hissed at the new wounds on your knees and whipped your head up.

Though weakened from lack of food and proper exercise, the alien was straining against the shortened chains. His blazing eyes were on you, taking in everything your caregivers did to you.

With a click, the thick steel door latched shut and trapped you in here with him. You sighed and stood back up while taking a glance behind you. The only entrance to the room sealed off until they choose to retrieve you. Until then, you calmly walked over to the ashen, grey alien and sat down close by. A respectful amount of space placed between the two of you.

Two more clicks entered the air. The chains that once locked him to the wall slackened and allowed the predator free range.

He instantly stalked over to you and knelt down. You picked up your head to find his eyes still on your sitting form. His gaze flicked down to your scrapped knees.

Those strange mandibles of his, or fangs could be a better word, didn’t offer any lips to form words. Not English at least. He seems to speak in his own but neither of you could truly understand one another in words. Instead, gestures got you farther in this strange friendship you’ve created with him. He was the only being in this forsaken place to offer niceties.

You reached to the fresh wound. Blood already dotted the scrapped skin. Nothing that cried for a bandage. Not that you would get in the end. “It’s alright,” you reassured him and threw a thumbs up at him. A sign he’s learned meant everything was fine.

He hovered still and stayed sat on his haunches at your side. A little unusual for the predator always on the move. When he was with you, ninety percent of the time he is prowling the given space and observing the door. You didn’t need to be told he was searching for his escape.

One animal, spirit lost to the solidarity. 

Another animal, always moving, always searching.

It didn’t take further than five more seconds for your gaze to drop and head to lean against the cool wall. It was colder in this room than even the halls that lead to here. You’ve pondered the reasons but have never come up with something concrete.

Warmth cupped your cheek and tilted your head back up to the only figure in this room. Your jaw dropped at the touch, eyes widening while you could only stare at the alien.

Once he found your eyes, he leaned in, diverted slightly to the side, and placed his alien mouth next to your ear. “I will get us out of here,” he whispered barely a fraction over his breath. You gasped in reaction, ready to spew questions when his thumb pressed against your lips. The words died in your throat before they could become sound.

Then, he nuzzled his mandibles to the crook of your neck and pulled back. The whole interaction had you puzzled but slightly scared shitless. Thise sharp fangs so close to your throat, knowing they could rip it out if he wanted. But instead, he promised your escape.

Escape.

It was like he offered you a sack of gold as a peasant.

“Please,” you murmured back and against the pad of his thumb. He grunted then stood up. The chains rattled at the movement and clacked against the ground. You saw the way his hands twitched at his sides when the sharp edge dug into his already sore flesh. Thick, raised scars would be left in its wake. That, you were sure of.

The alien moved away from you and began his pacing. It was the same pathing he always took. He looked high and low. You stayed there on the ground despite it hurting your lower back and watched him. As he moved, the hope that bubbled inside of your chest began to dwindle. Maybe he didn’t have a plan just yet or even the start of one.

You missed the feeling of the sun on your skin, the smell of fresh air. Freedom. That’s the base core you craved the most while in the pits of this place. You had no plans for escape. It didn’t look like he did either.

A hand ran through your knotted locks and started to work out the small rats' nests growing. He had spoken to you. Spoke English. After all the times you’ve been in contact with him, he finally speaks up and says that. But why did he say it so quietly?

Your eyes darted around the room, hiding behind your lashes. Four cameras. They left no space unseen. Did he not want anyone to know he could speak your language? I huffed and drew your knees while resting your chin on them.

Another click drew you from well of your thoughts. A sound you’ve heard before. The chains began to sucked back into the wall and dragged the struggling alien back to his original place. You watched with a sorrowful gaze, knowing every pull cut deeper into his forever bleeding cuts.

Before he could officially trapped back to the wall, he lunged at you and trapped your now quiver form to him. His body was a few degrees warmer than the room itself. The textured scales that covered him from head to toe rubbed against your back. You gave a yelp and struggled at first but stopped, hoping he wouldn’t harm you after all this time.

The first time you met flashing in your mind. What had stopped him?

His grasp on you wasn’t harsh or demanding, but firm, not allowing you slip away from him. The claws that tipped his fingers looked they could gut you like a fish. Yet, he ensured they didn’t dig into your skin.

The chains stopped once he was pulled to the wall but with you still in grasp. The door was ripped open and in poured seven heavily armed soldiers, guns directed at the two of you. You screamed and tucked into his chest and seek protection from the only friendly figure here. His arms tightened around in a secure manner. A deep rumbled beginning to grow from the depths of his chest.

In walked the main caregiver for you and him. You submissively bowed your head, afraid to look her in the eye and feel her wrath; or be knocked out and wake up in pain again.

The woman wearing a white coat looked down her nose at your meek form then gazed up at the predator trapping you. “You won’t hurt her,” she stated with a voice honeyed and sweet. How could she be so sure of something unknown? Even you didn’t know what his intentions were.

Warm, callused finger ensnared your throat. Your heart jumping and thumping against the digits holding your life. A whimper breaking free of your cracked, cry lips. The arm still wrapped around your torso  tightened but the hand rubbed the area behind your back. You inhaled sharply and slackened in his hold.

She marched forward and only left a space between her and you that dared him to take the lunge. “It’s against your honor code, isn’t it?” Your brows furrowed at the new information, unsure of what this ‘honor code’ entailed but hoped it truly meant he won’t kill you.

He growled and sent vibrations up your spine. Goosebumps were left in its wake. You shuttered and pressed yourself more into him.

Harsh, vile clicks and snarls sounded from his alien throat as he spat alien words at the doctor. An unamused gaze fell on her face while the grey creature said his piece.

When the sounds ceased and he breathed heavily, she used a finger to wipe spit off of her face and flicked back at him. “Are you done?” she huffed and rolled her eyes. “Your kind is so predictable. Quick to surge with rage and believe themselves to be high and mighty. Not for much longer.” You wanted to somehow shrink even more against him but there was not even a molecule of space to take up.

“Now, hand over the subject and we’ll still feed you tonight. And if you don’t… well, that’s for me know and you to find out.” You shuttered at her words, hand finding his arm and squeezing it. He returned the action with his arm still wrapped around your torso.

An action she saw. Her posture sagged then she spun around and walked behind the seven soldiers. They were used as a wall of protection.

“Retrieve the subject. Don’t kill either of them. Harm is okay,” she gave the order you knew was about to occur. Your eyes instinctively shut as you prepare for bullets to begin flying.

A deafening roar rattled your brain. Metal snapped. The heat you were once pressed against was gone. The pure instinct to search it out strong before your brain could register the scene unfolding in front of your trembling form. Your feet glued to the spot.

Even though he’s lost some of his muscular physique, this lethal giant showed off his strength and prowess. He had already thrown one of the soldiers into a wall, a dent left in its wake. Another was meeting the business end of this predator… and loosing not only the fight but their life as well.

Blood sprayed across the ground in a terrifying arch. The ruby red a sight you weren’t prepared to see. His claws causing the damage to be dealt and valuable life essence to be spilled at your feet. The same claws that had been wrapped around neck so softly moments before.

Bright pops of light and ear-bleeding claps left you dizzy in where you stood. You stumbled back and rested your shoulder against the cool concrete wall. The scene before you continuing to unfold as if you didn’t even exist.

It swiftly became a blood bath. The seven soldiers she brought into here were desecration into nothing more than piles of shredded meat and bleeding blood bags on the ground.

The horror that morphed over her usually neutral face was satisfying to say in the least. The fact she wasn’t going to be able to step out of this room dawned upon her. You watched as the color drained from her face with each step backwards.

Unlike you, she was trapped and at the will of the alien that bore his gaze down on her. You may be pressed against the wall like her, but you were safe, not afraid of him spinning around and mistaking you as one of them. You knew it in your heart he was following through with his promise. You’ll see the light of day again, breathe the fresh air of the day. Strangely enough, you felt giddy.

“You can’t do this! I’m unarmed!” she screamed at him and pointed a trembling finger at the grey alien. What’s with that? Does it have to do with this ‘honor code’ she spoke about before?

Oh, but he could. In a terrifying millisecond, your eyes couldn’t register what had truly happened. Her body laid motionless at the feet of the lumbering alien. Her back faced you, her head was turned towards you. The cold, lifeless blue eyes of hers stared blankly, unfocused.

Dead.

You released a shuttering breath and timidly looked at him. Said creature stood back to his full height and rolled his dense shoulders. The muscles that lined his shoulders and back rippling at the motion.

Then, the alien spun on his heel and marched over to you. For a scared shitless moment, you best believed you were about to receive the same treatment. What stopped him from doing so?

He came to a stop before you and offered you a hand. “We are getting out.” Words of English were rumbled at you. Your eyes flicked down to the open palm. The freedom you begged for since the day you arrived here was standing before you. Not in a form you were expecting.

You took his hand.

One moment, the ground was touching the bottom of your feet. The very next, your legs had to wrap around a wide frame, arms snug around his throat. His back to your chest. He patted your forearm. “Hold on tight. Do not let go,” he ordered then marched towards the door.

It was closed, still sealed. What was he going to do about that?

That had to a be stupid thought after watching him massacre the entire room. Clearly he had an idea, some plan to get you two out of here. As much as you hated to this, it gutted you, you trusted him fully to release you from this prison.

Carefully, he crouched down and grabbed a key card from a pocket of the doctor. Red from his hands smeared onto the thin piece of plastic. He held it up to a small area next to the door.

With a whoosh, the door opened. The moment it did. All the white lights suddenly flashed to red. A horrifying screech entered the air before going into a low pitch then back up. It continued to do this while he carried him and you into the hall.

His head whipped side to side, thoughts determining which way to go. You perked up at this and motioned for him to go left. “The stairs are next to the elevator,” you reasoned with him. He grunted and began to full on sprint in the given direction. This hundreds of pound of flesh barreled down the hallway like a semi-truck. Nothing could stop him unless he wanted to stop.

A ninety degree came up. The alien just slid and used an arm to keep himself from slamming into the wall. He continued on. You buried your face into his neck, ignoring the strange rubbery dreads that slapped against your head and face with each of his steps.

The hallway led him to the necessary door. He didn’t even try the handle when he full on kicked it down. The metal screeched as it was torn from the hinges and laid to rest at the bottom of the stairs. With that out of the way, he leaped easily over it and took three steps at a time.

The alarm still blared its horrible tune and forced a headache to pound inside of your skull. You whined and scrunched your nose, unable to relieve yourself of the noise.

Over the noise, you heard the tall tell sign of thundering footsteps. You tensed up, breath shuddering and catching in your throat. In reaction, you go to open your mouth and speak of the discovery. A single finger was held up in your line of sight. You closed your trap and hunkered back down.

He launched himself up a flight of stairs and crashed into something hard. Gunfire sounded less than ten feet away. A bullet never hits you as he powered through a sea of bodies. You kept yourself locked onto his back like a monkey for dear life. You don’t know if he would come back for you if you were to fall off. Or if a soldier may just kill you to solve half of their problems.

Warm, slightly substance latched onto your arms. You shuttered, already coming to the conclusion of what it is.

Dying, horrified screams echoed off the halls. They decreased in amount and volume until the last one was silenced.

A new quiet filled the air besides the heavy breathing from the beast you clung to. Ringing echoed inside of your ears and worsened your headache. You groaned and clenched your hands into a tight fist.

He moved on.

You were brought back to reality as the warmth tinglingly the back of your neck and arms. Confused, you picked up your head and opened your eyes.

Bright light first had you flinching but powering through the pain. Sunlight greeted you. Its light painful at first but warmth more than welcomed. Your jaw dropped at the sight now before you.

A vessel… No. A space craft. A UFO. And it had to be his.

The alien didn’t stop moving across the short field that took him less than ten seconds to clear reach the feet of the ship. He slammed his fist against the belly of it. A screeching hiss entered the air.

A slab of metal began to peel itself away from the belly of the craft and angle one end towards the ground. The sight something you would see from Star Wars. You could only watch in amazement as the alien marched up the ramp. He rushed his way through the insides and took expert turns until he reached the cockpit. His feet skidded to a stop at a console and hands flying across the panels.

You pulled yourself up higher and watched. He pressed buttons and started the engines.

They rumbled to life under his feet. The ship waking up from an unknown amount of rest.

Hanging off of his back, you spotted movement through the glass window before you. A hoard of soldiers poured from the facility you had broken out of. A cold sweat dripped down the length of your spine at the sight. You tapped rapidly on his shoulder to gain his attention. “We’ve got company,” you warned, voice wavering.

The creature scoffed and turned his head enough to meet your eyes. “Not for long,” he answered. A smirk that you didn’t need to see was evident in his voice. He reached over and grabbed a throttle. Pressure was added to the stick.

Power was fed into the engines. Their sounds gaining in volume. You felt it before you noticed the fact the craft was starting to lift off the ground. The people rushing towards the two of you doubled their efforts as they began to grow smaller.

Something hit the roof and prevented the vessel from gaining anymore height. The creature just scoffed and added extra power to the engines.

Metal groaned and gave way. The ship returned to its form ascent into the sky. You release a sob of relief while the two of you continued to climb into the sky. The prison left behind as everyone could only watch your escape.

Once blue skies transitioned to black and sparkles shining through, he released the tension in his shoulders then patted your forearm. “You can get down now,” he said and knelt down. The warm metal floor touching the bottom of your bare feet. You finally relented your hold on him and stretched out your muscles. Soreness sunk into your muscles after clinging to him for so long.

He turned around to look at you fully. The two of you taking the other in without the constant pressure of being under watch and locked into a room.

A smile broke across your dirtied features. It was slow, a small dribble of happiness filling your veins before it became a rush. You pumped your fists into the air and gave a lungful cheer that echoed back at you. Damn that headache, you could care less about it when freedom was returned to you at last.

Close to the end of your excitement, an ear-piercing roar sounded with your call. You stopped abruptly and looked at the alien. His head was tipped back, fangs fully widened. You let the smile return and gave a hearty call again. You deserved it after all the shit you’ve endured while at the prison.

The roar died off. You cut yours as well and returned to studying him again. Despite not knowing who or what he was, you could trust him completely. He had fought off the advances of the soldiers and kept you safe. It was impossible in the moment to wipe off the smile on your face. You didn’t even dare to try and knew it would be futile.

Freedom at last.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #yautja x human #predator x reader #predator x you #predator x human #x reader

[hollythius]

dearly detested ; howl jenkins-pendragon x reader

have i ever written enemies to lovers before? no. wait actually this is more rivals to lovers oops. also canon divergence i think. mix of the book + movie. female reader is implied but i use they/them pronouns.

also michael = markl. michael is howl’s apprentice, and is like…15. he’s just the book version of markl. (and also i like him way more than markl lmao).

rivals to lovers > enemies to lovers. there i said it.

hmm. it appears that the man upstairs gave me the ability to write angst. there’s some hurt/comfort mixed in there.

tw; blood, howl is a lot crueler i think, slight gore?, howl kinda kidnaps reader but they could leave if they wanted, non-sexual nudity, howl and the reader definitely have history, y/n is emotionally constipated, they take a bath together, you can cut the tension with a knife.

there was not one person you hated more in the entirety of ingary. everything about howl made you see red. every time his name crossed your ears, you bit back with doglike rage.

there was a time not too long ago where you felt differently, perhaps with even the slightest crush on the young wizard. but that was years ago, when you were still a student. now you were a full-fledged witch who saw through howl’s trickery. how could any respectable user of magic be such a dirty coward?

you sighed, the black masses fizzling away after leaving you bloodied. the witch of the waste was still on the prowl, and as sanctioned by the king, you were expected to rid of her. your dearly hated howl, however; was tasked with finding the king’s brother, prince justin.

his victory would surely trump your own, which of course angered you like nothing else. everyone would forget about the witch of the waste once the prince was found. so you decided to take your time with your contract. but now that you were rendered almost defenseless in the valley of the waste, the familiar puffing of the castle was once again something that stirred nostalgia and not hatred.

you lumbered closer to the castle, clutching your wounded side. the huge hunk of metal chugged closer to you, though you were sure that was coincidence. howl most certainly was not home. if he was, you would’ve ran back up into the waste.

you slung yourself at the back door, shoving it open with your shoulder. howl’s apprentice stood there, wide-eyed with a half finished spell on the table in front of him.

“m-master pendragon isn’t here right now,” michael stuttered. his wide eyes blew wider when they reached the deep gash in your middle.

“good.” you responded harshly, heading for the shelves of ingredients. your plan was to make a quick salve to stave off infection, but the creaking of the door made you freeze.

“oh? and what did the cat bring in this time, michael?”

his voice sent a chill down your spine. you dropped the vial you were holding, the glass breaking on the floor.

“and what manner of rodent may you be, my dear?” your rigid body turned around to find the horrible blond grinning down at you. his fingers traced your side, your body flinching as he flicked your blood off of them. “my, my, y/n. what in ingary has the king been making you do?”

you scoffed at his false curiosity. “i suppose you wouldn’t know,” you spat. he was only concerned with himself. “how has your contract been going?”

howl chuckled, and you had half a mind to punch his lights out. bang up that pretty face of his. “almost as well as yours, by the looks of it,” he said.

howl folded his arms, raising a brow. you knew what he meant. why had you come here, of all places? he was well aware of your loathing of him.

“it was close. i was sure you weren’t home.”

“so it was your intention to steal from me and then leave? calcifer would have told me everything,” he smirked. you narrowed your eyes.

“of course. but would you have sought me out? made me pay for whatever i had taken?”

howl’s face was stern, but you’d won. as you stared into his cold eyes, they finally darted away. you stopped the grin that pulled at your lips. howl turned to face the fireplace.

“prepare a hot bath. and lock the doors, calcifer. we can’t have our rat escaping just yet.” your heart dropped. “it appears they’re injured,” he sang, running a hand down your side. this time he didn’t bother flicking the blood off his fingers.

“i wouldn’t call them a rat, howl,” calcifer bit back before flaring up and doing his assigned tasks.

howl shoved your cloak off your shoulders. “michael, wash that for me. and you,” he turned and faced you, “accompany me to the bathroom, would you?”

you followed howl up the stairs, watching as his bloody hand trailed up the banister. he held open the bathroom door and steam fell out in thick tufts. “after you, my dear.”

you scowled. you stepped in, sitting atop the toilet seat. “so now what? going to watch me bathe, jenkins?”

“it’s nothing foreign, love,” he breathed, tipping salts into the bath water. “i’d rather not have poor michael be forced to supervise you.”

howl shrugged off his overcoat, letting it fall to the floor. he stretched his arms over his head, shoulders popping. he was left in a loose white shirt.

“i suppose you’re right, howl,” you sighed, finally giving in. “now, am i right in assuming that you have no intention of letting me leave until i heal?”

“would it please you if i said you are indeed correct in your assumption?”

you let a dry chuckle escape your pursed lips. your eye wandered, seeing all of howl’s beauty products. how many women had he charmed using these? immediately the homely aura returned to one of forced intimacy.

“of course it would,” you sang bitterly. howl laughed as he kneeled down to untie your bootlace.

“don’t play like that, my dear. i’m well aware of your…complicated feelings towards me.”

“what about them do you find complicated, oh great wizard of ingary?” you teased. however no amusement was in it, and none was found in his annoyance at the title you’d given him.

“i realize that i am a coward, there’s no reason to rub it in, dear,” his voice came out strained, and his eyes were shifting around.

you hummed. “i’m glad you’re self aware, howl. perhaps that fact brings you up a notch.”

“do you want my help or not, y/n?” he snapped. “or are you just here to berate me?”

you froze. he’d scared you many times before, but never once had howl jenkins ever raised his voice at you.

“i- howl, i didn’t mean it like that,” you sighed.

“of course you didn’t,” he sang, mocking you. his focus returned to your boots, swiftly pulling them off along with your stockings. the look in his eyes was distant. his hands edged towards your bloody blouse. “with your permission, my dear.”

“you know my answer, howl.” he seemed to lighten up at that. he did know the answer, which would always be yes.

soon your blouse was discarded on the floor along with your boots and trousers. you dabbed at your wound with a cloth howl had handed you.

“be grateful this gash wasn’t so deep that you needed stitches. i can fix this with magic.”

“go ahead,” you replied. howl’s hand moved to cusp your side, the warmth being replaced with the hot sensation of magic.

“this’ll leave a nasty scar, my dear,” howl said. but you weren’t paying any attention to him. your eyes focused on the thin flesh of his lips, pink and barely there. “though it doesn’t seem like you mind much.” his other hand grabbed your waist, pulling you atop him.

“i miss you, howl. every day,” you whimpered, burying yourself in his shoulder.

“then stay here. masking your longing with anger must be tiring.”

“i…can’t. not after how i’ve treated you,” you whispered.

“my dear, i know you only said those things to cope. it was the only way you knew how.”

the burning in your eyes ceased when you finally let your tears flow onto howl’s shoulder. he flinched when he felt your body quiver against him.

“howl,” your shaky voice barely audible as you gripped at the blond’s back. “i-”

“shhh. i know, my love. relax yourself.”

the two of you spent the next hour in the tub together, simply enjoying one another. howl calmed your shaky breaths, and made you feel like the only one in the world. you missed this. you missed him.

howl magicked up sleepwear, dressing himself and leaving you to sift through the pile of overzealous fabric until you found something suitable. you end up in something a tad too large for your figure, but you don’t mind. the softness of the silk garment is enough to make you even sleepier than before.

“howl?”

“yes, my dear, i know you’re tired. but please, let me speak for a moment?” he breathed, his blond hair brushing against your forehead. you respond with a sighed yes, and howl pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“never stray away from me again, my dear. it’s not good to keep things like this pent up for so long.”

your hands grasp at his back, and his lips make contact with your own. “i know, howl.”

howl’s lips parted in a kind smile, and he let out a small chuckle. he pressed his forehead against yours. “i love you, my dear.”

you answered him with a kiss on the lips. i love you too.

#helpful holly ☎️ #if you’re going to like you should reblog too #howl pendragon x reader #howl x reader #howl pendragon #howls moving castle #howl’s moving castle x reader #howl jenkins pendragon #howl jenkins x reader #i love this fic so much #it’s a labor of love #please don’t let this flop tumblr i’m begging

[forgedcold]

4, 13, 17, 27, 48

4. Favorite line

Oh man how to pick just one. I'm going with the one that comes to mind first which is this.

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

Become an Autobot maaaybe? I very much enjoy Autobot Megatron, however, I think it would have been better canon-wise if he had remained leader of the Decepticons and attempted to create a peaceful, unified Cybertron with the Autobots. If it didn't work, then yeah sure fuck off Cybertron and work through your generativity vs stagnation psychosocial stage of development. The way it's written, his reasoning for becoming an Autobot just makes it seem it was for shock value to get Shockwave to be so stunned he'd stop trying to destroy the universe.

I think they would've done better to lean into Starscream's failed leadership of the Decepticons, how it decimated the Decepticon empire, Megatron didn't have a lot of resources left when he did come back, and his hate boner was finally stroked to the max, so he was left with surrender or try to get something out of peace.

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

In terms of quotes/poems, I think about the tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow speech from Macbeth that basically means there is no purpose in life and horrible things are justifiable because of the lack of meaning (very skewed POV from Macbeth). Life "is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." And I mean, Megatron's life essentially amounts to nothing - but it also isn't just him.

I associate most Five Finger Death Punch (especially All I Know) songs to him and I think about William Faulkner (and his book The Sound and the Fury) in terms of his writing style. Megatron feels like a very stream of consciousness writer to me since the idea of having his own thoughts and free-thinking was illegal (also the psychological aspect of being told he was 'sick' for having ideas), so I imagine he wrote everything that came to mind very quickly.

27. Their guilty pleasure

Doing whatever he can to piss off Prowl.

48. Scariest moment of their life

When he was nearly shadowplayed in his youth when he worked as a miner. Canonically, it was written very rape-coded with Trepan saying shit like "I know this is your first time" "I'll try to be gentle" "You might leak" the whole "ugh" of pleasure when he sinks his needles into his brain. And I mean.

It made him cry. Hence his fear of needles and his aversion to mnemosurgery.

#meme: random questions #tacticturn

[darkstarofchaos]

Unpopular Opinions: EarthSpark Wishlist Edition.

Was going to give some thoughts on S1 a while back but never got around to it, so eh. Let's look ahead to S2 with some things I'd like to see and some I wouldn't.

Characters:

Ironically, the one character I wanted to see but didn't think would fit the show seems like he's actually going to appear. I've already written up an extensive Prowl wishlist, but to summarize: socially awkward and seemingly cold or rude, but nice once you get to know him; either not a cop or an ex-cop; disability optional but strongly encouraged. Also, if he's going to have low empathy or a strongly numbers-based approach to the world, don't villainize him for it.

Aside from Prowl, the only characters I have strong feelings about are ones I don't want to see. Basically all of them are MTMTE/LL characters, but the only ones I'm going to call out specifically are the DJD: I feel like they would need to be a season-long threat to be properly utilized, and since we've already had one major "hunt down Decepticons" plotline, I'm not interested in seeing another.

Not a deal-breaker, but I'd rather not see any more gender-swapping. I don't mind Ravage or Nova Storm and I warmed up to Frenzy, but Skywarp just doesn't feel like the same character. By which I mean I wouldn't be able to write her the same way I write him, because the way I write him would be a female stereotype applied to her. And I couldn't do her relationship with Starscream the same way either (same goes for her relationship with Thundercracker if he shows up). So as far as fanfic goes, she's literally a different character who I'd need to approach completely differently, and I just. If you need a bigger female cast and you can bring in characters like Hardtop and Skullcrusher, you can give little-seen female characters some time in the sun. Do that instead.

Pairings:

So first off, kudos to EarthSpark for finally producing a Megatron & Optimus dynamic where they actually feel like friends, but that's all I see them as, tbh. In fact, there's only one pairing I have any interest in so far, and that's MegaStar. And with that being said, I would like to see some development between them in the next season. But not Megatron trying to make things right with Starscream: Starscream deserves to have his desire for distance respected. Instead, put them in a situation where they're forced to cooperate and let them start to work things out from there. Maybe some apologies that neither is required to accept (we don't actually know what Starscream might have to apologize for in this universe, but I'm sure there's something).

As far as potential future pairings, I guess I wouldn't hate TaraProwl. On one hand, I would prefer as few IDW influences as possible, but on the other hand, the monsterfucker in me wants someone to pair Tarantulas with. But if they're going to interact, I need Prowl to not be a jerk and I'd love it if they didn't already know each other.

Other Random Desires:

Minimal IDW influences.

Normally I wouldn't think about this in a Transformers show, but after the Mother's Day episode: no more holiday episodes please (I will make an exception for an Independence Day episode that highlights recreational explosives as a horrible way to celebrate. Seems perfect for this show).

Still torn on whether or not I want to see Nightshade become aware of transphobia, but I'm thinking not. Won't say no to having more trans/nonbinary characters, though (I will make an exception to the no gender-swapping thing if the swapped character is explicitly trans).

More disabled characters! If not Prowl, then someone (was kinda disappointed that Twitch's optic got repaired by the Magic, not gonna lie).

Okay, that's all for now. Might revisit this when we get a trailer for S2.

#transformers #transformers earthspark #Unpopular Opinion #The desire for disabled and trans characters might be the only points that aren't unpopular

[wetcatspellcaster]

“But instead I thought, 'hey, you know, I get it. Break ups are hard. There's obviously some anger there, and you've had no one to express it to. Maybe it’s ok you built a house instead of coming to help, despite being literally invulnerable’. So I talked to Wyll, and we started inviting him to things. We checked in on him, we offered to let him join us on missions - though he never came. We tried to make him feel... included.”

Karlach ran her fingers through her hair, “I invited him to my birthday party - can you imagine that man, the way he is now, with a bunch of my friends, at my birthday? My first proper party, in fucking years, never mind my first birthday since I was freed from Avernus for good? Astarion was… horrible. Angry. Prowling like an animal. All but spitting on everyone else there, just for the sin of being people, you know, with flaws, and with their mistakes and their lives. Someone said something silly, and he charmed them, right there in front of me. Asked them to admit they were an idiot. He only stopped because I asked him to, and I saw it - the moment in his eyes, when he remembered I was a person he was supposed to care about. It took him longer than it should. And it was like he didn’t even consider the rest of them to be real people, just extensions of me.”

“But… we kept trying. We made things smaller, so it was just us, like the good old days. But… he just got worse. Crueller. At first, he only hurt himself, hosting those big grand parties with every vice under the sun, that he clearly hated, and fucking everything that moved, just to prove he could. And then when, surprise! That didn’t make him any less fucking miserable! He just started lashing out at us. Made us meet him at the Caress. Told us all the terrible things he was doing, just so they had an audience beyond himself. The things he used to say to Wyll…”

Thank you for the ask! :D

So, as I said in the chapter endnotes, this was my first time writing Karlach properly (you will note that she now keeps coming up in An Honest Lie bc I awkwardly have to pretend she's always been there, and everything else I wrote was Early Access). I was super nervous when posting! 1. bc she's a new character and I found her voice difficult to get down. 2. bc she's the fan favourite and right out of the gate, I was making her suffer :-)

Saying all that, Karlach was a really fun POV for this fic and this chapter's development specifically bc while she is self-sacrificing, I also think she is not as much so as Wyll, or my Tav. She's been through too much shit in her life and been burned by trusting people like Gortash, so if a guy looks shady af and treats her like shit, I think she has absolutely has a cut-off point, no matter who that person is or was to her in her past. She isn't just going to suffer for the sake of it, she will call a bastard a bastard if she needs to... unlike the resident martyrs of the party.

So yeah. I had Astarion ruin a birthday party :') This is partly bc, for all that this fic deals with Astarion's villain era, I'm not a Dead Dove girlie, so I needed the evil things he does to have emotional impact without being gruesome or triggering. I figured ruining our Best Gal's birthday would be a pretty effective crime to add to the list.

Why was Astarion a bitch at this birthday? A number of reasons. The first is that it hurt to see Karlach and Wyll happy and free of infernal influence. The second is that... Astarion is just forgetting how it works to be around people. Manipulating people he's still got down, but just... being in a space? With people he cannot control and has no power over, who he just has to let slip up and fumble and be generally choatic around him? I imagine the inhuman monster isolated and frozen in time without his soul forgot that pretty quickly, after a year without anybody but those he bought to his side on his own terms.

It truly is as Karlach says: he got angry at others "just for the sin of being people". Astarion is no longer human/mortal, and he cannot relate to humans anymore. He also cannot stand seeing other people happy in ways that did not require any supernatural aid or sacrifice - a reminder that he could've done it that way, if he'd been brave enough to risk it - and he also doesn't like people who seem undeserving of that happiness - ie. people who just seem to be 'doing fine' without any seeming effort.

What did the person who was charmed say to trigger it? Well, I think they were maybe one of those type of people: an average guy who'd stumbled into something good that he didn't really deserve through circumstances that were not his doing. I imagined him as a pretty arrogant mercenary that would be in Karlach/Wyll's wider circle of friends (a guest of a guest, say, in the adventuring trade), who is bragging and peacocking and isn't really a good person? Just an alright one? But talking about himself like he's the dog's bollocks. And Astarion got bored of him talking and so he charmed him and humiliated him, bc he was frustrated with this random man's existence and also bored.

In regards to the final paragraph, I struggle to imagine Ascended!Astarion as someone who is crass enough to often resort to violence. I imagine his brand of cruelty as being a lot more psychologically driven. For all that game Astarion brags about loving to kill, his arsenal is, ultimately, emotional and sexual manipulation first and foremost. So in this 'descent into villainy' (again, the non-dead dove edition), I tried to make Astarion's evil manifest by making people physically and emotionally uncomfortable through his behaviour. Pushing them to see how far they'd break, or how far they'd compromise themselves and their morals to be around him. Especially people like Wyll and Karlach, who would care if he hurt himself or make up narratives about how it was a cry for help. I think partly, Ascended!Astarion loves to watch these characters twist themselves into knots trying to find excuses for his behaviour, striving to remain kind to him and remain his friend even as it gets harder and harder. And also, maybe, somewhere, it's a fun test for him - to prove that people still care, that he still has people who care for him, until they don't and they're gone.

DVD commentary ask

#wip: pieces still stuck in your teeth #asks #ask games #dvd commentary ask #ooooh boy you chose a heavy section to analyse! but i hope the answers were interesting xx

[decepti-thots]

I’m trying to imagine the history of Meso and Prowl. Because Meso basically becomes obsessed with Prowl and I want to know why?

I HAVE SOME GOOD NEWS I WROTE A FIC ABOUT JUST THAT

ok, shameless plug aside, it's a really interesting question, isn't it? i know roche has said on a couple panels that he very deliberately didn't consider mesothulas' backstory when writing sins, because he thinks over-focusing on unnecessary backstory can be an impediment to writing, which is true but also leaves a very fun gap if you want to do fanwork about it.

i think with what tarantulas does say about it himself we get something of a clue as to not the specifics of what happened, but how that whole relationship came to be so obsessive, though. when he talks about what happened after he was pushed into and escaped the noisemaze, he discusses how coming back to his wrecked lab was awful; that it was the place that represented the 'fullest' version of himself, and to see it destroyed was, to him, seeing a part of himself destroyed too:

i think the degree to which mesothulas became obsessed with prowl is probably linked to prowl giving him all that. he let mesothulas isolate himself away from the world and study it as an indifferent observer as he so badly wanted to, and provided the means for mesothulas to do basically anything he might desire with it. his whole self conception seems to revolve around his autonomy and isolation from the rest of the world. prowl basically enabled that point of view and made it possible for him to embody it completely. he sees his partnership with prowl as intimately, irrevocably linked to his work, which in turn is what he defines himself by.

i can absolutely see it as being that mesothulas didn't initially see prowl differently to anyone else, but that intense isolation combined with prowl constantly providing whatever he wanted to do his work, no questions asked, changed that over time. some of it was probably that he saw something similar in prowl to his own amorality that is more interested in results than questions of 'should i really do this', but a lot of it is probably that prowl provided what he wanted whenever he asked, and no idea was too big or too dangerous. at least to begin with. mesothulas links his self-realization to his partnership with prowl, and he liked being that version of himself. so prowl perhaps became the first person to really impact on his life as an individual, and intrinsically linked to him in a way that simply by virtue of being the sole person to do so, would have to wind up... horribly codependent. i mean, if you get a taste of that, you want more of it- and if there's only one person who you think can possibly provide it, of course that's going to wind up. uhhh. gestures at tarantulas. Like That TM.

(obviously as per my linked fic, my favourite headcanon is that i like to imagine they met when prowl tried and failed to defect to neutrality, but i can absolutely see a version where he approaches mesothulas as an autobot; mesothulas agrees thinking whatever, i'll take your cool shit if it gives me what i want even if i don't care about politics, and accidentally gets in way too deep. very terrible man makes his first friend and reacts extremely badly.)

[sir-achimus-prime]

Daily Dose Of Sundrop :

Summary : Sunny's Sulking and Y/n knows how to deal with him . Sides is butthurt but glad his bro has a friend .

Note : Pure Chaos , I was inspired recently and decided to write it out . Might delete but , enjoy it . Feel free to send prompts as i'm a procrastinator and would love some feed back and direction/inspiration.

Anyway , Enjoy and Have a good day/night !!

And enjoy 😊🙂

* Y/n's Phone and Contact names *

Sundrop : Where are you !?

Me : Somewhere .... why ?

Sundrop : Sideswipe provoked Prowl.

Me : Bitch , I'm at work 😒 🙄

~~~~Message to Sidewinder ~~~~

Me : Bitch , I'm at work 😒🙄

Me : Why'd you piss off prowl ?

Sideswinder is typing .....

~~~~Message to Jazz-man ~~~~~~~~~

Me : What'd Sidewinder do and why's Sundrop made

Jazz-man : Sides , used all Sunny's new fancy paints on Prowler. Prowlers slagged off and Sunny's been in their Quarters since Saturday . Why ? We've been trying to get to comm.'em , but He's ignoring all hails . You talked to'em ?

~~~~~~~~~

Sundrop : The Slag you saying !!

Me : Sorry , meant to send that to someone else 😅 .

Sundrop : Whatever. Where are you ?

Me : I'm at work .

Sundrop : Work !? I thought you worked with Prowl?

Me : No. I have bills and kids !

Sundrop : You reproduced ?! Primus help us all !

Me : O.o Wtf ! Did Sideswipe Spike the energon dispenser again !?

Sundrop : What ! HE BETTER NOT HAVE SPIKED THE ENERGON DISPENCER !!

Me : Not what i meant , aft.

Sundrop : ....

Sundrop : You must be horrible at your job ! I would not hire you

Me : ... Good Thing I don't work for you 🙂🙃🙂

Sundrop : The Slag are those :smile: ?

Me : I'm on Lunch . It's ending in 30 mins. I'll be at Inn-n-out if ya wanna talk or talk smack about the stock domestic cars/trucks ?

Sundrop : They should know better ! Why should i grace them with my presence ?!

Me : I'm not going to base this week. Prowl's pairing both Prowl and you with someone else.

Sundrop : I'll be there in .... 15 mins.

Me : Your 3 hours away ?!

Sundrop : .... And your a stupid human ...

Me : O.o ... damn ... Want a stool for that horse ?

Sundrop : What Horse !!

Me : Hehe , Stupid Alexa

Sundrop : Who the frag is Alexa !

Me : I'm here . I'm grabbing some food .

Sundrop : Disgusting.

Me : Are you texting and driving!

* Many Stock Mustangs/Chargers/Cameros were critizied by a Car Nerd and her Car Ninja Turtle 🐢 *

1 day later

Me : Sunstreaker!!

Sundrop : So you live ! YOU DIDN'T ANSWER ME !!

Me : Bruh , Caplocks is on

Sundrop : What !

Me : Ummm , I gave Jazz something to give ya . Can ya open the door ?!

Sundrop : `~`

Me : Damn ... Whelp i guess Dinobots are gonna enjoy some new Linseed oil , mortar/pestel , Pigments and muller , brushes and a canvases , huh ?

Sundrop : .....is typing

~~~Message from The Jazz-man~~~~

Jazz-man : He's got it. Hopefully he uses it before Sideswipe gets out .

Me : Don't stress about it , Jazz

~~~~~~Message to Sideswinder~~~~

Me : I swear to god , If you mess with his new paint set , Ratchet will know !!

Sideswinder : Jeez ! ALRIGHT !! What's my brother do ?

Me : Nothing. Just don't fuck with his paints ! Also good-luck 🥰😘

Note : Thank you for reading !!!!!!

#jazz transformers #prowl #prowl x jazz #sideswipe #sideswipe x reader #sunstreaker #sunstreaker x reader #transformers g1 #springer

[dangerous-fellowz]

zombie infested romantic walk with lawrence

mainly fluff and comedy tbh, however tw for mentions of death in a joke.

it was a casual monday evening, and you wanted to stretch your legs for a bit. so you ask lawrence if he wants to go on a stroll, march, prowl, promenade, hot girl walk, whatever he wishes to call it, you just want out of the house.

"promenade? are you bored enough to start reading the dictionary?" he asks, turning to you in his spinny desk chair.

you correct him and say you've been reading the thesaurus. which he rolls his eyes at in an amused fashion.

"ok, ok, sure. i'm almost finished writing the meal plan for this week anyways."

he gets up and pushes the chair in, before putting on the jacket you hate so much with its horrible orange color. you just slide on your shoes and reach your hand out for him to take.

he grabs both it and the safety kit as you both head out the door. you both bask in the setting sun like vitamin d deprived dogs. it was comfortable out, a nice breeze ruffling your lovers hair.

it feels so nice to just be you and him, the zombies don't count as people. they are simply background noise to the day. this has become your normal. dare you even say you are no longer surviving, but instead, thriving. life has never been better for you both, even if you do still mourn the ones you've lost (which you are alone in.)

lawrence points to an old drug store, that looks free of zombies. "do you want to do some shopping?"

"oh but, i don't know if i can afford it right now. everything is so expensive anymore!" you say jokingly, which goes right over his head.

he tilts his head like a puppy, smiling gently with his eyebrows knit together. "but... its free. we liv-"

"i'm going to steal it all." you threaten.

well now he looks concerned. "i mean really its foraging because we don't really have anyone to pay, let alone an economy to-"

"lawrence i'm so excited to steal all the lipgloss. all. the. gloss." you continue, which makes him catch onto the joke.

"well, the only thing you stole so far was, my heart." lawrence said, with an goofy grin. he wasn't good at this, but it made you love him more.

you both walked inside, picking up items and pretending as if times were normal. trying on those cheap sun glasses, lawrence picking you out a really sweet card, picking out nail polish for each other, lawrence putting an annoying toy on the top shelf so you can't reach it. you know. zombie date things.

you two reach the lip product area, and you pick up an shade of bright pink lip gloss. you turn to lawrence and say, "you know. scharlette did look drop dead gorgeous in this color."

which makes lawrence laugh so hard he has to sit down. yandere humor is typically a big hit or miss with him. this time it was an home run though.

when he collects himself he picks up an pastel pink tinted lip stick. "when i was young, i'd play with my mothers make up. i don't know why, i guess i wanted to be pretty." he says with an shrug.

you are pocketing different shiny glosses and just say, "yeah no, i can see that for you." and simply nothing more, which gives him an mini crisis before he notices hello kitty bandaids near by.

he stocks them in the safety kit, which now held: a knife, rubbing alcohol, some snacks, a note lawrence left you about how to clean a wound that was oddly lovey dovey, a lighter, plenty of water, and now cute bandaids. "lets head home before it gets too dark." he suggests, packing it up carefully.

you poke his cheek and smirk, "oh, is it grandpa hours? time to sleep the second the sun sets?" you ask, before he kisses your cheek.

"is it so bad to want to cuddle up next to my partner?" lawrence asked with a playful huff.

you blankly look at him. "you're just tired of holding the bag, huh?"

he looks away. "...no." so yes. you grab it as you two walk home.

the zombies are just background music to you two wandering back home. life may not be normal, but you both found a love that doesn't require a normal life. it's perfect just the way it is.

#i head canon that lawrence is neurodivergent #why? #shhhhh #bc i am #and he has the vibes #dangerous fellows fanfic #dangerous fellows x reader #dangerous fellows #lawrence dangerous fellows #dangerous fellows lawrence

[skvatnavle]

Werewolf Matt Murdock x reader

Warnings: Insecurities, self hate, struggling with the beast within, slightly dark and feral Matt.

Notes: This is a part of "The Moon in May" writing challenge. The first week I was inspired by the word "scent". It's my first werewolf au, so I hope you guys like it.

A huge thank you to @mindidjarin for beta reading and for listening to my ramblings about this. Also thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writer for indulging in my ramblings and helping out ❤️

And header made by the lovely @loverhymeswith 💜

Words: 1452

Beast Within masterlist

Chaos. Overwhelming. Everything too much, too noisy. His senses were already heightened, but now… after the bite… he hears everything. Feels everything. Smells everything.

The world around him filled with sounds and smells, so vivid now that he almost feels like he can see again. He can picture everything around him, clear as day. It’s a strange feeling after years in the darkness. Well, it had never been completely dark, but it was the best way to describe this new sensation. All his senses alert, nothing getting past him.

He can feel the beast within begging to come out. Begging to be let loose. It’s a cold day in Hell’s Kitchen, but his skin is damp with sweat. He is so hot, skin burning. A small voice in his head, the beast, begs for him to tear off his skin and let it loose. 

He can feel the pull of the hunt, the bloodthirst. Maybe he could let it loose. Just once. Clear out some of the scum defiling his city. He could easily rip them apart, make sure they would never hurt anyone again. 

Matt shakes his head, trying to block out that horrible voice inside. He had to resist, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to forever. Full moon was only a week away. And he knew it would be a bloodbath.

Before he was afraid he had the devil in him, but now he knows there’s truly a monster within.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting on the roof, looking over the city. The rain is falling heavy on him, soaking his clothes and should have chilled him to the bone. But not anymore. Small clouds of steam rise from him, the heat from within keeping the cold at bay.

He feels alone. So alone. Father Paul is gone and Foggy… No, he couldn’t tell him. Foggy had a hard time coming to terms, when he discovered Matt’s nighttime heroics. What would he do, if he knew this? And would he even believe him?

His head snaps up. What was that? His nose turned up against the wind, his nostrils flares as he takes in the exquisite scent. For a moment, the world around him stills, nothing else existing besides that scent, drawing him in. As another wave of the foreign smell washes over him, he crawls further towards the edge, scanning the street below.

Around him, the world is always a blend of scents. The burned stew from the apartment next door. The piles of trash, decomposing. Thousands of people dosed in perfume, sweat and the scent of their lovers. Taxi fumes polluting the air. But it wasn’t all bad. There’s the smell of the heavy rain lingering in air, the wet grass in the park across the street. The various flowers of the rooftop garden on the next building fragrant and sweet, the most fragrant herbs. But none of it compares to this.

He jumps down, landing in a small alley way, creeping towards the street. The smell of apples and lilacs along with something he can’t quite place hangs in the air, washing over him with every small gush of the wind. He tries ignoring it, but it still invades his senses. It surrounds him, haunts him. He’s never felt like this. It’s like he craves it, needs it.

Letting his nose guide him, he walks down the street, manoeuvring elegantly between the other pedestrians, constantly sniffing the air. When he stops, he finds himself outside a bookstore. Going in, he prowls between the shelves, unnoticed. Turning the corner, he stops dead in his tracks. 

You’re standing with a book in hand, your fingers delicately running over the pages. You softly tuck a strain of hair behind your ear, your gaze fixed on the pages. New book. The smell he couldn’t place were new books. It’s you he could smell.

Intrigued by you, Matt covers behind the shelves, just observing you for a while. You spend a long time, rummaging around the shop, the stack of books in your arms getting bigger. For every turn you make, he counter moves, always out of your sight. Afraid of getting caught.

He’s always felt he was bad, but now he knew he truly were. Even if every fibre in his body begs him to talk to you, just to hear your voice once, he can’t. When he can even accept himself, then how could you?

“You’re not as sneaky as you think, you know?”

Surprised that you’ve seen him, Matt doesn’t manage to move before you pop your head around the corner, sensing a huge grin on your face.

A normal person probably would have been weirded out by someone following them around a store, but you’ve always been a little quirky. A little different. Where you should be scared, all you felt were curious about the man before you. 

The man before you is left speechless, probably wondering if you were a weirdo or not. But who was he to judge after following you, right? So you just step out from behind the shelf, looking at the handsome stranger.

“So… Why were you following me?” you ask softly, genuinely curious what could cause such a beautiful man to follow you. Couldn’t be for your looks, cause a man like that could get any woman he wanted. Book knowledge? Nah, that wasn’t right either.

“Would you believe me if I said I was compelled to?”

You snort, taken aback by his words. What a line. You hate to admit it, but it does intrigue you. There is something unexplainable about him that draws you in. You introduce yourself and after getting his name, you turn back to the shelves, continuing your hunt for books. Matt follows you slowly and you hate to admit it, but his presence is comforting. It’s odd, really.

“What are you looking at?” he gestures towards the book you’ve just pulled from the shelf. A little ashamed of your choice of books, you nervously turn the book to him, so he can read the title.

“I’m blind, so you’ll have to tell me”

He smiles, which only makes him more handsome. But confusion sets in. Blind? You look at him closer. His eyes looks almost empty, his gaze unfocused. But the signature cane you’ve seen blind people with are nowhere to be found. How did he get here? And how has he been following you around without bumping into things?

“I really am blind. Since I was nine, in case you were wondering.”

He smiles softly, tilting his head as his beautiful hazel brown eyes almost meet yours. He gestures towards the book and shifts closer, his movement so fluently, almost like a majestic animal.

Okay, you had to start reading different books. They were starting to get to your head. Flustered, you clear your throat as you look at the cover.

“It’s... Ehm, ‘A Curse so Dark and Lonely’. It’s a about this prince, Rhen, who is cursed. Every fall he turns into a beast and only true love can save him.”

Matt’s face falls, a expression washing over him that you can’t quite place. Sadness? Despair? 

“So he’s doomed then. Who could ever love a beast?”

“Well, I bet i could. I mean, Beauty and the Beast is my favorite story. Always saw myself in Belle.” you shake the books softly. Always been kind of an outsider, the oddball. And seriously, who wouldn’t want a library like that? You smile to yourself, before looking at Matt again.

“It’s really not about whether or not he is a beast on the outside, but about who he truly is on the inside. Someone worth loving.”

Matt’s eyes fly to yours, the beautiful hazel brown gone, replaced by something dark. Brows furrowed, his gaze intense, soul piercing. It takes your breath away, makes your heart beat faster.

“What if it’s what’s on the inside that is ugly?”

He comes closer, so close you can almost feel his breath on your skin. The intensity of his gaze sends shivers down your spine. You should be scared, you really should. But every nerve ending in your body ignites, a fire spreading. And something tells you it’s a fire only he can put out.

“Something tells me, Matt Murdock, that what’s inside you is worth loving.”

Smirking, he leans in closer, his lips ghosting your cheek. He inhales sharply, a low growl erupting from his throat. Your heart beats faster, threatening to burst free. Matt’s head tilts down for a second, almost as if he hears your rapid heartbeat, before his lips once again ghosts against your ear.

“I think you’re gonna be disappointed, sweetheart.”

Thank you so much for reading <3

Tagging: @clydesducktape @absurdthirst @mindidjarin @buckypascal @loverhymeswith @a-reader-and-a-writer @freshabogados @lcvenderblues @e-dubbc11 @imgonnaragnorockurshit @fictionalnerdery @lucy-sky @starduststevie

#TheMoonInMay #Matt Murdock werewolf AU #matt murdock x reader #daredevil fanfiction #the moon in may writing challenge #werewolf au #my favorite little devil

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

Spillways (Chapter 3) A Gilded Age fanfic

Faceclaims for George and Randolph Stewart

Contents: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Word count: approximately 2300

Story Summary: All of New York society is in a tizzy over the news: The Earl of Galloway is in town with his son, the 30 year old (bachelor) Randolph.  Marriage-minded mamas are on the prowl but the Earl and his son eschew most of the lavish parties and teas they’re invited to...except to a certain tea with Agnes Van Rhijn and her niece, Marian.

Rating: Teen (mentions of drunkenness, slut-shaming) Ratings will be *by chapter*, so subsequent installments might differ in their rating.

Author's Notes: This is a canon-divergence story beginning a few months from episode 5 of Season 2.

DISCLAIMER: I am not affiliated with The Gilded Age in any way beyond being a fan, I do not own the Gilded Age characters nor am I using them for any commercial purposes or making money from this, this is just basically word fanart of the show

Beautiful divider by @muchomago

It came as a shock to everyone (except Bannister and Peggy) that Agnes Van Rhijn objected to Marian potentially being courted by an Earl’s son.  

Everything Agnes did, especially since Ada’s leaving to be with her new husband, was in hopes of finding Marian a husband.  Failed courtships did nothing to deter her. 

“It  seems like she would pair Miss Marian with anything that breathed and wore a top hat if it came down to it.” Jack said one morning at breakfast. The rest of the servants and Peggy  agreed: if it was male and available, Agnes Van Rhijn would attempt a match.

Until it came to Randolph Stewart, that is.  

Both ladies were in the sitting room when the argument broke out, Marian reading the newspaper and Agnes tending to her letters near the window.  Marian seemed more willing to be open with her Aunt about her goings on these days.  Agnes sometimes took the information with ill will.  Like today.

“He is not courting me, Aunt Agnes, he merely wishes to talk of how to better support St. Mary’s and also the Red Cross! Charity work is important to him.  Even if he was courting me...would that be so horrible?”

“He is the son of a member of the peerage, my dear.  The most important thing to him is finding a gullible lady who will turn a blind eye to his whoring and give him a legitimate heir so that he can prance around as if he has accomplished something worthwhile in this world.” Agnes said acidly.

“How can you say that when you don’t even know him?!” Marian argued.  She folded the newspaper in her lap.  

“You certainly had no issue when Charles and Aurora pushed me to meet a drunkard!  I heard no complaints from you when Dashiell proposed to me, when it turned out he was only doing it to spite his now wife because she had rejected him!”

“I was right about that Raikes scoundrel, wasn’t I?”

“You weren’t at first and you know it.” Marian shot back.  “People change and Tom Raikes unfortunately decided not to include me in his life when he did.”

“I suppose you’ll continue to ignore my advice, as you always do.” Agnes said, returning to her correspondence with a huff.  Peggy had the day off, and so Marian and Agnes were alone together in the house with the remaining help. 

“I don’t ignore your advice, Aunt Agnes.  You only say that because I make choices different to those you would make yourself.” 

“Cavorting with a likely rakehell is definitely a choice I would never in a million years make.” Agnes said curtly, continuing to write.

“Giving people a chance to show me who they are is not a poor choice.” Marian said, returning to her reading of the paper.  “I will go to see Randolph in the park tomorrow, whether you approve of it or not.”

“Hpmh!” Agnes answered. “I knew nothing good would come of you lowering yourself to doing work at that school.”

The day after their argument, Agnes Van Rhijn strangely accepted Marian’s suggestion that she include Randolph Stewart’s father on an invitation without fuss.  The whole incident had gone well. Eerily so. Bannister and the rest of the servants were truly surprised.  Comparing it to their previous quarrel, it was like comparing night and day.

 It worried Marian now more than when she had anticipated another tantrum before asking.  She had expected a battle and gotten mildly annoyed acceptance instead. 

Beforehand, Bannister and Peggy had warned Marian that her Aunt felt…strongly about the Earl, even if she had no legitimate quarrel with his son besides lingering prejudices stemming from history with his father.  Whatever that history was, the rest of the inhabitants of the house still did not know, but it was obviously something Agnes Van Rhijn refused to let go of for decades.

“If the Earl decides to accept your invitation, I suspect his visit will not go smoothly.” Bannister warned.  “Mrs. Van Rhijn may be plotting something.”

“The way she rejected Mrs. Astor’s invitation that day…she was more cordial when refusing Mrs. Russell’s invites when she was first establishing herself in society, let’s just leave it at that.” Peggy had informed her.

“Aunt Agnes is nothing if not proper.  She will not dare to behave so impulsively in person with an Earl in her home.” Marian said.  She wished she believed it. Perhaps Randolph would tell her what was going on.

There was already gossip in the papers about Marian having talked to Randolph Stewart.  When so many pleas for the presence of Lord Stewart and his son had been rejected, seeing Miss Marian Brook going for a carriage ride with one of them felt like another rejection.  A statement as well.  One that said: Marian Brook is better than you, people whose invitations we have denied.  When it came out that both the Earl and his son were invited to tea at 61st Street by Miss Brook, not Agnes herself, and had accepted?  Well, the uproar was quite a thing.

They wouldn’t dare utter a word in Agnes Van Rhijn’s presence (or within her hearing range) about it, but many mumbled how unfair it was that someone like Marian Brook managed to snag time with the Stewarts of Galloway.  

What was so great about her?  Sure, she participated in society, as was proper.  However, in the eyes of many, Marian Brook did nothing noteworthy.  She did not wear the most extravagant gowns and sure, she was beautiful, but hardly enough to take one’s breath away.

Bertha Russell took no issue with it, despite having received a rejection.  Miss Brook had been kind to her from the beginning and if anything, she was impressed by her feat and intended to wheedle all the details out of her when she could.  An invitation to luncheon next week was accepted by Marian, and if all went well, Bertha was sure she would be bringing along a very important guest.

Mrs. Astor was not displeased by the news either, even with her friend’s refusal to attend her own tea with the Earl and his son. Marian was Agnes’s niece, after all, and part of Old New York. She saw such a development as Marian’s due.  Her worry remained with how Agnes would deal with facing George Stewart again, after all these years.

Aurora and Charles were delighted at the possibility of no longer being pushed to play matchmaker by their Aunt Agnes.  They prayed Randolph’s interest in Marian went beyond charity work.

Those that were less than enthused by all this kept their complaints to whispers in a corner at a party or private chats at a luncheon. They did not want anything they said in complaint of being rejected to be misconstrued as a comment against Miss Brook, even if that was what was meant.  The specter of Agnes Van Rhijn’s rage loomed over them, the potential of being publicly given a dressing down by her was enough to cow them into being discreet about the matter.  Not so with Susan Blane.  

The widow had become bitter for a while now, ever since rumors of her and young Mr. Russell had made it into the papers last year, it seemed.  She did not grace the ballrooms and sitting rooms of New York with her presence, but all over Newport her complaints were heard.  Even the young Mrs. Winterton, with her own position in society more precarious than ever, did not dare publicly disparage a member of Agnes Van Rhijn’s family.  

For Susan Blane, Marian Brook seemingly always getting men flocking around her had always been a thorn in her side. To get the attentions of an Earl’s son when Susan herself had been rejected by them, it was like an insult.  

“Miss Brook has another suitor? I wonder what this one will find wrong with her.” Mrs. Blane was heard saying at one of Mamie Fish’s parties. 

It shocked even Mamie, who was like a moth to a flame where gossip was concerned.  “Who is to say it is Miss Brook the one that something was wrong with?” Mamie had put in, attempting to nip in the bud speculation of Marian’s reputation.  “Many of her suitors were rather distasteful, if you ask me.  Especially that drunk banker friend of the Fanes.”

“I agree,” Carrie Astor said. “Miss Brook showed good sense in rejecting many of them.” 

“Rejecting all of them, you mean?” Mrs. Blane continued.  “All of them had something wrong?  Most of them are married themselves now. What could they possibly have that wasn’t good enough for Marian Brook but was sufficient for their present wives?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Carrie said, eyes narrowing and disdain in her voice. 

“Surely you aren’t implying Miss Brook is too high in her instep for rejecting suitors?” Gladys Russell asked in disbelief.  “I’ve rejected plenty myself.  Are you suggesting a lady should just settle for the first man who will have her, no matter his flaws?”

“I’m suggesting nothing of the sort.” Mrs. Blane said silkily.  “Miss Brook is suggesting something else entirely with her actions.” 

“And what would that be, Mrs. Blane?  Are you sure you’re not imagining things?” Carrie said. 

“My, my, I didn’t realize Miss Brook had such a legion of defenders!” Mrs. Blane said. A mean look colored her eyes as she laughed lightly.

“I don’t care for your tone.” Carrie responded coldly. “I don’t see anything that Miss Brook should be defended for, either.  She isn’t doing anything improper.”  The mood was rapidly shifting to a negative atmosphere and even nearby guests were growing uncomfortable.  When Carrie Astor was displeased, it meant something serious was afoot.

“Miss Brook is as respectable as any of us here.” Mamie said, desperate to alleviate things.  “There’s no need to try to throw mud on her good name simply because the Earl denied an invitation from you but accepted one from her!  He has denied an invitation from nearly all of us.”

Mrs. Blane smiled as if accepting what Mamie said, but the smile did not reach her eyes.

“You know, I think this courtship between Randolph Stewart and Miss Brook will go well.”  Carrie began, turning to Gladys.  “They already seem to have so much in common.  Their good breeding, their dedication to charity…their shared good sense when it comes to rejecting certain people..they seem like a good match, don’t you think so, Gladys?”

“Absolutely.” Gladys said, smiling as she sipped her wine.  

Mrs. Blane’s fake smile immediately fell off as she left the scene, not even bothering to excuse herself.  The people around them buzzed with whispers.

“I will try to stop the gossip rags from learning of this, but I know that is a fool’s errand, with the servants I have.” Mamie said sheepishly.  Gladys and Carrie giggled.  

“No doubt we are not the only ones Mrs. Blane has subjected to her grumbling.” Gladys said.

 “Still, I will at least try to prevent a scandal.” Mamie replied.  “The last thing I need is Agnes Van Rhijn’s wrath raining down upon me for seemingly allowing someone to smear a member of her family in my own home.”

Mamie left the girls to their socializing, both giggling nervously at the thought of Mamie Fish being yelled at by Mrs. Van Rhijn. They were not at all nervous at the prospect of Mrs. Blane getting that treatment, however, and actually hoped Mamie failed in her mission so that they might see the widow get her just desserts. 

“WHAT IS THIS?!” Agnes Van Rhijn thundered. 

“The morning paper, ma’am?”

Bannister stood before her, holding a tea tray, his mistress shaking a newspaper in his face. He was glad Miss Brook was gone to St. Mary’s for the day.

“Do not talk as if I have lost my senses, Bannister, I mean what is this?!” she pointed to the headline, eyes flashing angrily.

“It seems as if…distasteful comments have been made, ma’am.  About Miss Marian.  I understand your upset-”

“DISTASTEFUL COMMENTS?! Distasteful?  Bannister, she might as well have called Marian a dockside tart!” Agnes screamed.  In the back behind Agnes, Bannister saw Bridget immediately turn around with the smelling salts and leave after he gave her a quick shake of his head. 

“How DARE she?!  A washed up harlot of a widow talking about my niece courting in such a way!” Agnes continued.  “If she thinks she can drag a member of MY family through the mud with no repercussions, well, she is about to learn differently! Fetch me my hat!” Agnes threw the paper at the table. 

“Ma’am, you have the tea with Lord Stewart and his son today after Miss Marian gets home! I don’t think it wise to go off to Newport right now.” Bannister said, following his mistress stomping to her rooms.

“Who said anything about going to those hovels in Newport?!  I intend to call on Mrs. Astor and have that trollop Susan Blane removed from the Academy waiting list! Then, god save me, I intend to call on Bertha Russell and have her do the same with her waiting list for her garish opera house!” Agnes rattled off. “THEN I shall instruct them to refrain from ever inviting that horrid woman to anything EVER AGAIN if they want to continue considering themselves my friend!  I intend to go to Aurora about this and Mamie Fish, too, though what I should be doing first is asking Mamie Fish why she stood by and did nothing to stop Susan Blane from opening her muckraking mouth abou-”

“You consider Mrs. Russell your friend?” Bannister asked in surprise.

“Bannister, I do not have time for your jokes!  NOW FETCH ME MY HAT AND GET ARMSTRONG UP HERE TO HELP ME CHANGE!”

Bannister bowed quickly before ringing for Armstrong. 

----------

NEXT: Chapter 4

#the gilded age #hbo the gilded age #spillways fanfic #the gilded age fanfic #the gilded age fanfiction #agnes van rhijn #marian brook #fanfiction #fanfic #writeblr

[novafire-is-thinking]

🔥 Greetings! If possible, anything MBTI about any TF character. Thank you.

You have no idea how excited I am about this ask. :D

According to PDB.com, the public consensus on IDW Tarn’s MBTI type is INTJ.

Personally, I believe Tarn is an ISTJ.

I’m not up for explaining both types’ entire function stacks since it would require me to write about typology theory as a whole, but I think I can manage to give a readable explanation.

Quick Overview of the Functions

The dominant functions for the two types are:

INTJ: Introverted iNtuition (Ni) - also shared by the INFJ

ISTJ: Introverted Sensing (Si) - also shared by the ISFJ

Now, functions come in opposing pairs:

Ni is always paired with Se (Extraverted Sensing)

Si is always paired with Ne (Extraverted iNtuition)

For the INxJ, Ni is the Dominant while Se is the Inferior.

For the ISxJ, Si is the Dominant, and Ne is the Inferior.

Ni-Se vs. Si-Ne

The Ni-Se user (INTJ or INFJ) holds to an abstract future they’ve crafted/decided on (Ni) at the cost of living in and being aware of the present (Se).

The Si-Ne user (ISTJ or ISFJ) holds to the concrete present they’ve chosen at the cost of opening themselves up to future possibilities (Ne).

None of these types do well with chaos or change, but for different reasons.

The INxJ feels threatened by present, concrete chaos (Se) that can derail their vision or how they think things will/should be in the abstract future (Ni).

The ISxJ feels threatened by chaotic future options/possibilities (Ne) that can disrupt their current, concrete idea of comfort and security (Si).

So, an INTJ will want to disrupt the way things are to reach their idea of a perfect future, and they will be highly aware of the most likely future implications of their present choices.

An ISTJ will want to work very hard to keep things the way they are, and they won’t be as aware of the future abstract implications of their actions.

Character Comparisons

IDW Prowl is an excellent, but horribly unhealthy example of an INTJ. I don’t think I need to explain how I came to that conclusion. lol

Meanwhile, Tarn is obsessed with keeping things the way they’ve been. Either type can have a goal, but for Tarn, his identity revolves around maintaining his concrete sense of security—a position of power, a significant place in The Cause(TM), etc.

Prowl can’t help but see the future implications of his and everyone else’s actions; he’s convinced himself he can get the present chaos to align with his future vision of how things should be.

But Tarn? He avoids looking at the future implications; he’s convinced himself he can avoid the potential chaos of the future by doubling down on maintaining his current place in the world.

That’s why I believe Tarn is an ISTJ.

#thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to dump about MBTI! #I have no idea how I’d navigate the people world without knowing this stuff :] #asteroid belt of asks & answers #nova talks mbti

[rughydrangea]

Okay I’m finally making my way through s2 of mck as fast as I can (the semester is over, I’m taking advantage of some free time!), and must write down random silly thoughts:

--I’m in the middle of episode 49 right now. I dislike Silahtar so strongly but I do kind of love it when he’s blatantly a bad guy? It’s like a less good version of Ibrahim’s arc from the mothership, and Lord knows I adored bad-guy Ibrahim.

--I’m sorry, I can’t stand Farya. The character makes no sense to me, even leaving aside this franchise’s bizarre obsession with Christian princesses in the harem. She enters with such a clear purpose and within five episodes it’s all gone, thrown away so she can devote herself to a guy who treats her like crap? And then once she’s in the harem, she’s just kind of dramatically inert as a character? No shade to the actress, who has some good moments (her blow-up at Murad over Sanavber was great), but I just don’t understand what Farya’s doing here.

--Speaking of characters I don’t like... Farya’s BFF Atike. But here’s the thing: every aspect of Atike and Silahtar was excruciating to me, watching her basically stalk this man who was clearly not into her and then emotionally blackmailing him into marrying her.... no! It was bad! BUT. As much as I dislike that Atike, I really love the Atike who is Ibrahim’s twin and loves him and wants to protect him, and I know that’s only going to grow, so I can’t write her off.

--I love Kemankes. He’s devoted to Kösem! As every person should be!

--Murad... is simply not it. I loved Murad the kid in s1, and I’m still not sure what is missing here for me. Is it just that he’s mean to his mother? Is it that all the moments of him having emotions that aren’t anger and hate were with a character I don’t like (Farya), thus making it difficult for me to connect with him? Maybe it’s that we start the season with him already acting out against Kösem, which made it tough to jump onto his emotional wavelength and feel his feelings with him? Or maybe it’s that he’s a terrible person who is at this point basically a mass murderer? (Were I a denizen of Istanbul, I would simply never speak my mind and actually also never go outside, because it legit seems like Murad is just prowling the streets looking for people to kill!) With all of that being said, though, there are levels on which the Murad/Kösem conflict really does work for me, because they’re both so inflexible and fixated on their own power above all else that they can’t see how much they need each other. Kösem is smarter about this than Murad, but not as much as she should be. And that does work for me, because their dynamic is pure tragedy: they should be working together, but every facet of who they are pits them against each other. 

--Kösem’s other sons are great so far. I fell for Kasim, I love his earnestness and his playfulness and his devotion to his mother (being good to Kösem is, in case it isn’t obvious, my #1 criterion for all characters), and knowing what’s going to happen to him is very upsetting. And Ibrahim... shockingly, I adore him. He’s hitting a lot of the same beats as Mustafa in s1, not just because they’re both “mad” sultans, but because I feel like these characters realistically dramatize what would happen to a person’s mind living in this horrible environment. Ibrahim’s fear, paranoia, instability--they are all strike me as highly reasonable responses to living as he has. So knowing what will happen to him, who he’ll become, and how Kösem will turn against him, also makes me sad, because we so clearly see the core of vulnerability that the rest of his personality is built around.

--Sinan Pasha is unreal in terms of his longevity. At the end of the world it will be cockroaches and Sinan Pasha.

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #magnificent century #my commentary

[anon-e-miss]

I was thinking about what a *bad* pregnancy would look like for Prowl, and I had this idea that, like… He’s having a horribly rough carry (morning sickness, aching joints, exhaustion, etc), so he doesn’t do any field work, but nothing and nobody can stop him from tactics back at the base.

Except… the constructicons (who are obsessed with Prowl) notice his absence and strike a deal with Rumble and Frenzy to sparknap Prowl while Devastator keeps Jazz busy. Jazz is good, but… well, they’re a gestalt. And he and Prowl don’t yet have a bond, so he doesn’t realize anything is amiss until it’s too late. He might even get badly damaged because they’re actively targeting him.

So now the Constructicons have a heavily gravid Prowl. If he fights them, Hook threatens to induce premature labor, since he has medic protocols. He runs the odds and his only option is cooperation. Which obviously he hates!

The Constructicons strike a deal with Tarantulas to work together and build a convincing fake Prowl. Their plan is to say Prowl died in childbirth before hostage negotiations could be completed (due to stress), and ‘return’ his frame plus the bitlets they don’t want for a fee/in exchange for con hostages while actually keeping Prowl as a plaything. (Hidden from everyone but Tarantulas)

Imagine Jazz coming out of a coma to find out Prowl is ‘dead’. But at least they recovered his bitties. What would he do? If he goes to look for Prowl despite the extremely accurate corpse he already received, he might orphan the bitlets. (I’m picturing the Twins + Strongarm + Chase—maybe others, too) He has to take care of the kids he has, not go off chasing ghosts.

Does he even know this ISNT Prowl’s frame? Hook is a perfectionist, and Tarantulas is somehow even more the gestalt, so I think it’s accurate down to the tiniest scar. And his array. Which they might’ve used while waiting for their turn on the real deal, and they explain any transfluid as ‘he asked for donations because he could tell things were going south. He was willing.’ Along with a video of Prowl agreeing that he needs contributions to get through this. (Possibly edited by Soundwave, who knows)

How would Prowl get out of a mess like that?

Not something I would write. I find the Constructicons tedious mostly and especially centring around Prowl. So I write them at most a few lines and then… bye bye. Not shitting on anyone liking the dynamic, I just don’t.

My answer to this plot would be mostly, Prowl isn’t pathetic. He fights. Guns don’t care if you’re disabled, they equalize a lot of things. There’s no point where he wouldn’t fight. And I don’t see him agreeing to be raped for transfluids.

Let’s look at my history with Prowl suffering. And boy do I make him suffer. The times when he can’t actively fight, are engineered more than just capture holding him back and even then, he still puts up fights. At no point is he broken to nothing. And no point is he not planning or fighting.

Even in Ecdysis where he’s about as broken as I’ve made him, he’s still fighting.

[deadlifeseries]

Head with no bulk

yes the title is a bad pun

yes this is about the headmaster episode

yes i am once again writing mooshy shit let's go

This had to be jus about the worst thing ever.

First he had a gallery show and no pieces for it, and now he had woken up with his body somehow missing. After calming down from the initial shock he commed Prowl.

"Hey, Prowl. I uh, I have a problem"

"What happened? Are you alright? You didn't come home last night", everyone just assumed that he'd be back late after Bulkhead stormed out the previous day and didn't come back late into the evening. But as the morning came he was nowhere to be found.

"Sort of? But I need you to come to my location, and please hurry".

Hurry? Did something happen? Prowl hoped not, he raced through the streets into the more run-down part of town. As he aproached Bulkhead's location he couldn't see him anywhere.

He transformed to robot mode and looked around, and called out for Bulkhead.

"Down here!" he called back, slightly embarrased at being seen in such a state. Prowl picked him up "how did this happen? Who did this to you?" His visor switched angle back and forth before settling on pinting sharply up "I'll make sure they pay for it".

He looked down to see Bulkhead look tired and defeated, "what's wrong?" Prowl asked and caressed the other's cheek. "It's just..." he sighed "Everything's going wrong. Everyone's scared of me, I've got a gallery show but I can't make anything good, and now this". The angle of Prowl's visor softened, he knew that Bulkhead had certain insecurities but hearing how much it really bothered him was horrible.

Prowl walked into an allet and sat down with his back leaning against a wall. He held Bulkhead against his chelsplate so that the other could hear his spark. "Why do you worry so much about what others think of you?" Prowl wanted so desperately for Bulkhead to see all the amazing things that Prowl saw in him. "Because they're right! I'm too big and clumsy, and I always break everything! I've always been the looser, I don't know why you even bother with me".

The last sentence made Prowl stiffen, and his vents stilled. In a split second Bulkhead found himself being glared at just a few inches away from Prowl's face. "Now you listen to me. I will not tolerate hearing you talk about yourself in such a way. You mean the world to me and I know for a fact that you are so much more than your physical strength. Anybody who disregards you as nothing more is a fool. I know that it's hard to deal with being talked down to, trust me I have been there myself. But no matter what remember that what others think does not define you". His engines had begun to revv agressively as he spoke, unable to contain his love and passion.

Bulkhead still looked slightly unconvinced, he was about to retort but was immedietly cut off by Prowl's lips pressing hard agains his own. When he was free he tried again, but was once more cut off. "Let me talk!" as much as he tried he couldn't escape Prowl's grasp, "only if you don't depreciate yourself again" he warned.

"Okay, I won't. I just.. I've always been seen as just big and dumb, and I just want to be seen as something more than that. That's part of why I got so invested in spacebridges, I thought that maybe I'd actually make something of myself. Even if maintenence work is looked down on". Prowl listened patiently as Bulkhead spoke, and when he finished Prowl kissed him again, a lot softer this time. "Well, your knowledge in the field is defienetly unmatched. I may not be able to change the opinions of others or completely take your worries away, but know that I will always love you just how are. And I won't hesitate to remind you of it", he smiled and peppered little kisses all over his face and neck, which made Bulkhead start to laugh.

"Are you feeling better now?" Prowl had made them both blush a lot and he savoured the sight of Bulkhead's dorky grin, "yeah, I'm better... thanks, dear". The little petname made Prowl's spark skip a beat. He stood up and set off in the direction of the base "of course, my love".

#Ayo what's this? #two fics in the span of like two weeks #yes the title is the yankee with no brim meme #fight me about it punk #once again i stand by the idea that Prowl is a hopeless romantic in private #if he loves you he will make fucking sure that you know #also it must've been so surreal ofr bulkhead to suddenly be reduced to just head #like he's the biggest and strongest and suddenly he's completeley defenceless #defenceless against prowl's lips >:) #tfa prowl #tfa bulkhead #prowlbulk #transformers animated #tfa

[tarklesbehindthescenes]

Hi :D, If requests are open I was wondering if I could suggest a small drabble or head cannon of either the autobot brothers or the bullet train team: (RiD 2001, so glad ppl know this show) Getting in a fight and reconciling or cheering a member up. Hope you are having a nice day/night ✨

ASLSDLFKJSDKH AN RID01 REQUEST!! YES!!!

You certainly saved my day, Anon! Thank you~

I've taken the liberty to do both the fic and write out my headcanons. Headcanons will be posted later once I'm done with them. But the fic is done, so you can have that while you wait! I'm horrible at writing drabbles. I always want to just carry on a scene.

Word count capping at 969; I'm using the English dub personalities for the Bullet Train team

Against his standard preferences, Rapid Run was with the Autobot brothers this evening. They had finished their patrol and duties for the day and had invited the bullet train along. Why that was, Rapid Run hadn’t the slightest clue. When he’d asked, Sideburn had just said, “Because”. The train had been in no mood to push it further than that, so begrudgingly ended the questioning at that and agreed to go along. If anything, it meant getting further away from that annoyance of a teammate, Midnight Express.

Rapid Run was having a bit of a bad day, he would readily admit. Not only had he gotten his can handed to him by the Decepticons while his allies were stuck too far away to get to him in time, but as soon as Midnight Express and Railspike had reached him, they’d helped run off the ‘Cons, then told him off for getting in the situation to begin with! Well… Midnight Express had. But it wasn’t like Railspike had done much to defend Rapid Run. He just calmly told the older train to ease up.

And so, here he was. Sitting on a beach and sulking while the Autobot brothers stood in the shallows of the ocean and discussed how they’d go about teaching themselves how to swim. It seemed pretty pointless to the bullet train. After all, they were beings made up of heavy metal. It’s not like they were made of buoyant flesh like the humans. Regardless, they gave it a go, sticking to the shallows so they didn’t just get themselves stuck right away. They practiced for about an hour and didn’t appear to get anywhere.

Understandably, X-Brawn decided to call it good and began wading back to the beach, heading in Rapid Run’s direction, while Prowl and Sideburn stayed in the water and carried on. Or rather, Prowl had tried to resume swim training, but Sideburn was evidently bored as well and thought it would be fun to start up a splash fight with his brother. Prowl was forced to join in, but only out of annoyance as he thought it would get the youngest brother to stop the childish behavior.

Once the eldest brother had made it back to Rapid Run, he heaved a tired “phew!” and dropped onto his aft next to the train. “Ahh, that was a workout!” he stated. “We didn’t get very far, but I think we’re gettin’ the hang of it.”

“I don’t get why you’re bothering, but whatever,” the bullet train grumped.

“Makes good practice in case we get caught in a water fight like back at that dam,” X-Brawn replied nonchalantly. He then sat back and peered up at the young train. “So, bud. I think it’s pretty easy ta see that yer havin’ a rough time. Why don’tcha blow off some steam an’ tell ol’ X-Brawn what’s up?”

Rapid Run shot him an annoyed look. “What, so you can yell at me for being stupid, too?” he snapped.

The eldest brother raised his hands defensively. “Whoa there, cowboy. It isn’t my job ta yell atcha. If I’m ta yell at anyone, it’s strictly those two.” He pointed to the two Autobot brothers still splashing each other in the water.

Rapid Run eased up a bit with a sigh and turned his gaze to the ground. “Yeah, I guess… Sorry. I just… Midnight Express was getting on my case for losing to the Decepticons earlier.”

“Oof… Right, I heard about that through TAI. Gotcherself ganged up on, eh?”

The young train groaned and raised a hand to rest his head in. “Don’t remind me… I thought it was just two! If it was, I coulda handled them no problem! But then the rest showed up and it got too much to handle… Midnight Express says I should have retreated. Like it was such a simple thing I coulda done with Ruination on my tracks!”

X-Brawn nodded with understanding as he lowered his hands again. “I getcha. That Ruination is a piece ‘f work.”

“I just wish the guys would get off my back,” Rapid Run continued. “You know? It’s not my fault! The situation was horrible and I couldn’t get away!”

The eldest brother nodded again and gave the young bullet train’s thigh a few consoling pats. “I know. It’s easy for them ta say whatcha coulda done because they weren’t there until later. But at the same time, try not ta hold it against ‘em too badly. They were spoutin’ off things ya coulda done because they care about ya. I bet they were freaked out about losin’ ya and just couldn’t put it ta words.”

This made Rapid Run turn his head to look at the older mech thoughtfully. “You think so?” he asked.

X-Brawn pointed to his white brother now chasing angrily after the blue one. “Prowl’s like that,” he informed. “Gets all angry and mouths off tactics whenever he’s worried about us after a bad beatdown. Just his way of lettin’ us know he likes us better alive.”

“That’s… annoying, but I can see whatcha mean,” the young bullet train admitted. “Well… If that’s my teammates’ way of saying they like me better alive, then I guess I can get used to it. Doesn’t mean I have to love it, though.”

This gave X-Brawn a laugh. “Nope! Absolutely bugs the bajeepers outta me and Sideburn! Butcha deal with it.”

Rapid Run hummed his acknowledgement before finally leaning back and stretching himself out in the sand to relax, turning his gaze up to the clouds floating by overhead. “I think that was what I needed. Thanks, X-Brawn.”

“Any time, bud. I’ll letcha know if those two goobers make their way over here.”

The young train chuckled. “I’m sure we’ll hear them way before they reach us.”

#Transformers #RiD01 #maccadam #Team Bullet Train #Autobot brothers #Rapid Run #X-Brawn #Midnight Express #Railspike #Sideburn #Prowl #Asks #requests #This was a fun one! #Thanks again!