#I've been thinking about this a lot because Prowl is my favorite but I only have one story so far with him

[scribesynnox]

Sike! I seperated my first post into a second one anyways. More apocalyptic ponyo jazz and prowl thoughts because the first post was getting long. And I want to see people's thoughts on them, but that'll be hard to do if there's too much going on in just one post.

@keferon Sorry for the double post but hey, this is on you. You are just so inspirational, and your ideas are just so fun to play with.

Man, one my favorite parts about captive Jazz and him knowing human language is that Jazz knows from the get go that humans are sentient and sapient. Everyone else is playing "oh wow, I've befriended a very clever animal!" and the only mer who knows humans are in fact not a pet, is stuck with ANOTHER mer and can't even speak fluent mer yet.

It's going to be so funny when Jazz finally learns enough mer to tell Prowl about humans and Prowl is like "THEY'RE SENTIENT?!"

Jazz: man, did you really think I was held captive for so long by a bunch of NON sentient animals? Because if you did, I'm about to be very offended. Prowl: You were land locked, I was hardly going to think you were unskilled or dumb. Any normal and sane mer wouldn't have been able to escape. Jazz: I feel like there was an insult hidden in there. Prowl: No, I'm shocked because if they're sentient, then they HAD to know what they were doing was wrong! Jazz: don't blame them too much. They didn't keep me trapped out of malice, they thought I'd die if they let me go. And to be fair, without you, that definitely would have happened. Prowl: That doesn't make your treatment okay! Jazz: I said don't blame them TOO much, I didn't say don't blame them at ALL.

Jazz swimming around in the ruins of the drowned city and going up to read a city map that's been protected behind some glass. Prowl has no idea why Jazz is staring so intently at the human drawings, and impatiently tries to get Jazz to move along. Jazz frowns at him and waves him away, stiltedly replying back, "Listening now. Gathering information. Hold." What is Jazz learning from the drawings? Do they actually mean anything?

Jazz memorizing the maps and then using the street signs to navigate their way around. Prowl being baffled at how Jazz seems to know where to go despite having clearly never been outside before.

It takes so long before Jazz can convince Prowl that "see those weird squiggles? That's human writing" Prowl: no those are territory marks that humans make. Jazz: hey, who's the one that grew up around humans. I'm telling you, it's writing. Prowl: but it's only one color! Jazz: humans don't use color as a tone indicator, they have different symbols for that. Also, fuck you guys for using colors as a second secret language, why is your writing so complicated? And I thought Chinese was hard.

Hey speaking of not knowing things about his own god damn culture, WOW how must Jazz feel about getting to go back home, except when he finally escapes, there's a lot more rubble and deadly mutant sharks than he expected.

Except when he escapes and gets to the open sea, he STILL feels like he's inside a tank. An outsider looking from behind a glass wall as everyone else gawks at him.

he is a stranger to his own culture and it hurts more than he expected it to, to come back to what should have been his home, only to find that there is no magical instant sense of belonging. It is just as alien to him as the tank had first been all those years ago.

He expected it but it still hurts more than he thought it would.

But at least there IS a warm welcome, courtesy of Prowl warbling a "Welcome back" at him. It's a start.

There is just.. SO MUCH sea!! Jazz can swim forward and swim and swim and SWIM and he can swish his tail as much as he wants, and he'll never hit a wall. And there's more than just Forward, there's also up and down and left and right and just!!! EVERYWHERE!! There is so much sea EVERYWHERE!! He could swim a HUNDRED laps just going straight forward and still never run out of room!

there is almost.. TOO much sea, honestly. Jazz's whole world consisted of tanks that barely had enough room to swim in, and now there is a dizzying amount of room to swim in.

This whole experience has just been absolutely breathtaking but if Jazz is being honest, he's not sure if it's from awe or from fear.

haha, imagine if this is when Jazz finds out he has a fear of The Vast? Oof, rip.

And like, Jazz had been in a cell, trapped for years, yes, but he still grew up there. I bet Jazz misses things from the human world.

He named himself after jazz music, Jazz isn't going to want to give up on human things.

Does Jazz sometimes miss the processed food that had been given to him? Because I KNOW we all got that one garbage food that doesn't taste good but it's what you grew up eating so you love it anyways, so does Jazz have his childhood garbage food in processed fish food? Does Jazz dig up and find those buckets of fish food and just start chowing down and Prowl is just staring at him in disgust and judgement? Lots of judgement. Jazz is offended.

Oh! And what about the effects of being raised by humans! Like, yes, the ignorance about his own culture and own world and the lack of social knowledge and his atrophied tail and all that. But like. what about night vision?

Jazz having shit night vision because he grew up surrounded by humans, and humans are always leaving SOMETHING bright on. He's never experienced true darkness before, and the first time he sees the world without light pollution, he's scared shitless because FUCK, IT'S PITCH BLACK, HOW DO YOU SEE ANYTHING, HOW CAN YOU KNOW WHERE DANGER IS!

Can I just say, I absolutely adore the fact that Jazz is as terrified of the ocean as humans are because he only knows of the ocean through their eyes. It provides an EXCELLENT way to project our own fears of the ocean onto a mer. I love it.

you know, I'm really glad that Jazz is the captive one and Prowl is the "wild" one in here. Not just because it's interesting, since it's so easy to immediately go "Oh yeah, Prowl would be the captive one and that's why he's so analytical and aloof", but also because this way makes more SENSE.

Prowl as the "wild" mer, the free mer, was able to grow up in a society. He went to school and got a degree and shit. Ya man has gone to college.

Meanwhile Jazz doesn't get taught SHIT because everyone thought he was a dumb animal. Clever, sure, for an animal, but still just a regular non sentient animal. So Jazz had to learn tricks and how to read people and all that jazz (haha, get it?), learn how to get around and do things on his own.

Which seems fitting for these two. SO yeah, I like their current set up, it's great.

[truuskn]

As someone whose first interaction with Prowl was in the G1 cartoons, you absolutely get it. There needs to be more of Prowl written like that and not always delegated to being a prick.

first of all, i absolutely agree. secondly, actually, the situation with how the fandom sees prowl is very curious. and kinda unique? i may be wrong, but it seems to me as if his idw version has affected his character much more than other idw versions affected people's views on other characters. i'll explain that in a moment but let's start from afar :D

i think the version of prowl you meet for the first time can really make a big difference in how you see his character in the long run. i first met prowl through idw and it played tricks on me. you know, i actually like idw prowl, but i have 2 problems with him:

a) he's a poorly written character. the idea is good, i really think so, but the writers didn't do a good job. he has a lot of interesting moments, but if you look at him in the perspective of the whole story... nope. bad job. i'm not going to talk on this topic, i've seen discussions about this on tumblr more than once, so some wise people have already said it all for me a long time ago :D

b) he's... technically the only nasty, manipulative jerk prowl among his other variations? but his popularity makes it seem like all prowls have always been like that. and when i first started getting to know this franchise i thought so too... i thought he was like that everywhere and all the time

when i first started reading tf comics i only did it with knowledge of tfp, rid-15 and rescue bots and i immediately jumped right into mtmte. i didn't watch g1 or any other shows. i didn't understand who was who or what was going on. and i automatically started hating prowl, because, well, everybody hated him?? even comics characters?? i thought it was the right thing to do. i didn't know anything about him, but because of his image in the comics and fandom i just accepted that he was a prick, a bad guy, a bastard and hated him. and i didn't want to get to know him any further

so when i finally started watching g1 and especially reading marvel comics i was so surprised... what the?? who's that?? why is prowl like this?? and i didn't understand what was going on at all again. yeah, it took me some time to realise that in this fandom in different continuations sometimes the only similarity from the same character may be the name alone (tfa prowl, tfa elita, tfp arcee, yk)

so it was marvel comics that made me love prowl. this is my favorite version of him. i'll write more about him someday but in short i'm just in love with how loyal, faithful, hopeful and kind he is here, how he fights despair, how continues to move forward no matter what, how hardships bend but don't break him... ugh. so many good stuff with him. especially the exodus arc (i don't remember what it's officially called but it's the one with the op death, leader grimlock and withering cybertron). anyway, perfect prowl in my mind. without him i'd probably just forget about prowl and focus on other characters. so i really miss him being like this. and even tho rn i appreciate and love any version of him, i think he's interesting both as a calm, cold and collected person and as a ninja bot and as an asshole, etc, etc, but still. it took me a while to get into it and i don't think i was the only one. it's sad that idw image is hurting this character and his legacy. again, i still like this version of him, but i don't like this situation

so. i wish people would stop automatically attributing the same characterisation to him everywhere. for some reason i get the impression that prowl is the only one this happens to? megatron, for example, can be a gratuitously bad guy, a tragic villain, a redeemed hero (which i'll be honest i like in tfe but hate in idw) - and everyone is used to it. no one equates him to one characteristic, knowing that it can easily change, he's accepted differently. but for some reason it doesn't always work with prowl... anyway, i really hope we see more variety with prowl in the future. preferably in the direction of g1. i really like tfe and idw2 takes on him! and i'm very interested to see what he'll be like in skybound (well, if he ever appears there, haha)

[roachywoachy]

I got distracted from actual writing again.. uh, not mee.. this was supposed to be a prompt and is roughly the same kind of 'prompt' as the one I'm writing from at the moment.

Prompt writing is not for me.. this was originally from my note app so, have a drabble as I cry about Hook doing Prowl x10 because he definitely probably misses Scrapper because they were close because they are my favorites and Scrapper was a good leader.. crying x100

So I've been thinking.. Cave-in either early IDW where Scrapper still lives or G1 with cute little police bot Prowl. Not sure where–maybe cybertron or some random planet the Autobots and 'cons are fighting on.

Premise is, the constructicons were mining or something down underground and Prowl, Streetwise and whoever were sent to investigate what the ever loving hell the 'cons were doing digging that deep.

Cut forward there's a cave in after a few solar-cycles of ground tremors and shakes, after a few joors turns out Bonecrusher put his detonations down without calculating proper geographical components and the place goes down. Just so happens at the same time Prowl was in the deeper section where they were all congested and was now trapped with the huffy gestalt because of course one of the times 'Crusher blows himself a grave it's dragging all the gestalt under.

Transmissions couldn't get through due to the absolute ground mass, so Prowl was stuck and the gestalt was too busy digging themselves out of the mess they were dragged into and by time they all got their bearings in the tight section. They were barely low on energon but thankfully they were mining for energon, as little as there was.. Mixmaster would be able to stabilize the raw material to consume.

But Prowl had already seized their energon supply with the time he'd had to get his own bearings from having to drag himself out of a pile of rubble. Paint scratched and not looking his best, wing polish scratched down into the sensitive now bare metal of his doorwings that were quivering and needed a new coat soon before his overstimulated, achy frame got worse.

Already huffy when the constructicons came stumbling for their energon that–somehow–survived the demolitists' playtime. Holding his blaster up to the 6 heavy framed gestalt who were equally as beat from cycles of dragging eachother around under tons of rubble. Bonecrusher who took the hit the worse.

They didn't care about the investigative questions spewing from the weakened cop, barely stable himself as his pathetic show of using the energon against the 'cons was found amusing.

After all they were devestator, why should they be scared of some praxian who looked a whole lot worse than them? Whose wings were cut and sensitive to the slightest draft and leaking energon behind from where he had trailed from.

Their main priority wasn't the cop but energon, pushing past and eating down the last of their rations (the only stable energon as Mix couldn't mix until they rested)

Scrapper questioned the dazed cop who was on his aft in the same spot, the most inquisitive of the bunch wondering how the little frame survived.

Prowl was of course pressed that they hadn't even been a tad threatened, did he really look that bad? Sat off to the side, once realizing the dirty gestalt were more focused on downing energon and fixing their own wounds for now. Prowl found himself looking over his own damage in depth, completely seeing how much more of a wreck he was. And how cold he felt now that the adrenaline died down.

Only brought back to a hazy moment when he realized they were looking at him and Scrapper and Hook were speaking to the dizzy cop. The sheer ache in his doorwings hurt so bad he couldn't even feel it, distracting him from the potential danger of 6 'con frames of destruction lazing about.

Pulled out of his processor when a grounding servo prodded a dent in his arm, pulling away from the foreign touch. The medic, simply trying to check the damages when Prowl pulled back as best he could from their stares. Visors all on him.

Scrapper didn't seemed to notice though, kneeling infront of Prowl to get some information from him as Hook was almost force feeding the little amount of energon left over into his intake, grumbling about the mess of energon and how filthy every mech was.

After a few joors of half assed answers and being prodded by a crazy 'con medic that was definitely touching everything that hurt purposely, Scrapper having to drag the conversation back to how they just need to relax and they'll all make it out.. but why did they care about Prowl? Why were they helping him, if not for some gain? To keep as a prisoner of war? He'll have to bolt the second they get out.

After some time Prowl was being cleaned up by the grumbling medic whenever he'd need to restart a repair, Mixmaster and Scavenger who were sorting out their raw energon that they'd mined, along with Longhaul who was groveling about getting out of this pit. Bonecrusher was forced in recharge, having taken the worst of it all. Already patched up by Hook.

It was obvious there was another conversation going on, it was loud with how they hummed and verbally responded as they spoke through their gestalt bond.

When Hook got to Prowl's doorwings he'd seemed to pause, testing the raw metal that got him a scowl and doorwings quivering. The touch would've felt good if his wings weren't already cut through and bloody.

Scrapper helped Prowl for some reason.. Leaning the cop against his heavy chassis as Hook insisted albit harshly that Prowls doorwings needed to be patched up or risk infection or a medical procedure he didn't have the tools to do. So, forced to indluge the medic Prowl found his faceplate against the cold dirty metal of Scrapper, Hook on his backside organizing the little amount of equipment he'd had.

It hurt, the pain was excruciating to have his wings touched with no sort of covering or relaxant. Only straight onto the barest they could be, he didn't know when coolant spilled down his optics onto Scrappers chassis. All he could think about was escaping the pain, digits indenting into Scrappers hip.

Hook only paused when he'd finished wrapping a wound or Scrapper when had to shift the silent panting praxian. It had gone on for what felt like cycles, doorwings fluttering and quivering in thick servos. Occasionally soothing up and down his backstrut because they must've known Barricade was from Praxus aswell, probably had struggled with his own fair share of wounds with Hook who seemed experienced in the more sensitive spots.

After one wing was finished he was given a break, coolant still oozing against Scrapper. Laid almost limp across the larger mech who was speaking with Mix, Scrapper and Longhaul who came along to watch. It's not like they had anything better to do, and watching an autobot stifling sobs in the arms of one of their own? It was amusing to say the least.

After an entire solar-cycle of being tossed in and out of consciousness, numb pain and the excruciating frustration whenever Hook had gone to redo a spot because it wasn't perfect enough.

By the end of it Mixmaster had gotten enough energon processed to feed the half dead cop, oral lubricants and energon leaking from Prowl's intake from the attempted feeding. They had all gotten their own mounts of fuel in no time. Doorwings patched up but still need time to heal through. Leaving Prowl unable to transform until he was better, trapped in a hole with maniacs.. Great.

After passing out in a puddle of his own tears, thankfully they just left him off to recharge.. against Scrapper.. because of course, he couldn't exactly sleep on his backside without irritating freshly cleaned wounds, very very sensitive wounds.

This situation was completely in the left field, the 'cons had fixed his wounds, let him recharge with no more prodding and their teasing was kept to a limit. But then of course what good would he do a corpse, how long will it take to get out of this pit? Where's Streetwise.. Jazz?

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: January 2024

as long as I'm talking about The Gargoyle's Captive, let's discuss what else I've been reading this month.

Maeve Fly (CJ Leede, 2023) - I really liked this slender debut novel, which follows the titular Maeve Fly as she prowls LA like a homicidal alien, playing an unnamed ice princess in a certain theme park by day and indulging her murderous tendencies by night. Maeve is in a downward spiral; she's 27 years old and is preparing to lose her grandmother to illness and her only friend to a blossoming acting career. she sees no future for herself beyond losing the only two people she cares about and has no further goals, contenting herself with alcohol and porn while she rereads the same books, rewatches the same videos, and listens over and over to her playlist of Halloween music. Maeve is, it must be said, an abysmal loser, and I like her terrible melodrama a lot. I do think some of the hype is perhaps overstating the feminist credentials of this book; it sort of reminds me of when a college friend told me their favorite feminist movie was Suicide Squad (2016) because Harley Quinn was in it. Maeve talks a lot of big game about how women are always expected to have some tragedy to be deranged serial killers, while men are allowed to just do it, but it hit me as a little tryhard. there are a lot of books trying to be "the female American Psycho" right now - Eliza Clark's 2020 novel Boy Parts is frequently described as such - but it feels a bit too on the nose when Maeve's ultimate climactic rampage is directly inspired by a glimpse of the American Psycho novel. it's not that deep, but it is a gross, captivating read told from a fascinatingly cracked POV. check out Maeve Fly.

Laziness Does Not Exist (Devon Price, 2021) - yeah Devon Price is still following me (though my days are numbered, I'm sure) so it's a massive relief to say that I did like this book. Price has sort of become my self-help ride or die, mainly because a.) he's so much more self-aware than the average self-help writer that it feels kind of insulting to call him one and b.) he's actually dealing with topics that are relevant or interesting and providing actionable advice. while LDNE didn't engross me quite as hard as Unmasking Autism (while I am, famously, not autistic, I do believe in their beliefs, by which I mean I'm the token allistic among my close friends and I vastly prefer autistic company) it hit me hard in several unexpected pressure points. I'll happily admit that I can't relate to Price's interviewees who willingly work 50+ hours a week for jobs that hate them and are destroying their minds and bodies, but I still struggle to escape the perpetual sensation that a moment at rest is a moment wasted. It probably didn't help that I was reading this book while on vacation at my mother's, where I visited the beach almost daily and was so work-averse that we didn't even bother going grocery shopping because I didn't want to cook. and yet, despite getting dummy chill in some aspects of my life, I am still constantly possessed by a malevolent ghost insisting that I'm wasting my time and have never actually done Enough. maybe Price's next book, Unlearning Shame, will finally fix me; it's out in four days and god knows I'll be getting my hands on it as soon as humanly possible.

Patternmaster (Octavia E. Butler, 1976) - y'all know I love a messy political fantasy, and this is just... god, the absolute messiest. I thought Mind of My Mind was bad, but it turns out Mary's descendants are going to full-on reinvent feudalism with psychic powers, treating non-psychics as chattel and causing technological advancement to regress since they refuse to handle their problems with anything but psychic powers. and it's even got two brothers duking it out for the throne that will give them power over every bitchy psychic on earth! you love to see it. if I can be 100% honest I do think it's straight up bananagrams that this was the first book released in the series even though it's chronologically last; I genuinely cannot imagine caring enough to figure out what the fuck these people were talking about if I didn't have the previous four books for context. and even "context" may be generous; Octavia still has absolutely 0 interest in explaining what's up with the fucking outer space werewolves who are the psychics' #1 enemy. if I could have brunch with any person living or dead I would summon Butler up in a heartbeat to explain what the fuck her thought process was in plotting out this series over some mimosas, and I would take extensive notes on every word she said. an absolute genius and the uncontested queen of freak shit forever.

Thirsty Mermaids (Kat Leyh, 2021) - I purchased this graphic novel in November 2023 at a conference where I bumped into Queer Comics Peddler, my very favorite queer midwestern pop-up. running into them is always a delight, and this time I came with a question: could they give me a recommendation? the very nice people working offered up Thirsty Mermaids, which was the PERFECT companion for a long airplane ride. it's cute without being overly sappy, and avoids the trap of sacrificing a plot for the sake of checking off as many representation boxes as possible. the story is simple: three mermaids use a spell to turn into humans and go ashore in search of booze, only to realize in the morning that they don't know how to turn back. taken in by a generous bartender, they're faced with the reality of having to make money for the first time in their lives. hijinks ensue, but also a very sweet and warmhearted story about the friends looking out for one another as they try to figure out exactly where they belong and what home even means. also the artwork is GORGEOUS, with the mermaids' extremely memorable character designs being a real standout. if you're a graphic novel enthusiast, definitely check this out 🧜‍♀️

Sugar, Baby (Celine Saintclare, 2023) - Sugar, Baby came to me in a very similar way as Thirsty Mermaids: while visiting a witchy little bookstore that I was immediately charmed by, I asked the cashier what they would recommend. they offered up Maeve Fly (fab) and this novel, a stack of which was on the counter advertising an upcoming event with the author. neither have disappointed, so shout out to that one employee with the great taste! Sugar, Baby sees a young cleaner named Agnes, one of the only biracial women in her unnamed English town, befriending the daughter of a wealthy client and getting whisked away to her new friend's London lifestyle: crashing in an apartment with fellow models, staying out all night to party, and making money by going on dates with extravagantly wealthy older men. Agnes starts out having a swell time, but the cracks pretty swiftly start to form as she realizes how much more dependent she is on these men than her wealthy new friends and she begins to wonder exactly how much she's willing to diminish herself to get the bag. it's not a perfect first novel but it is a compelling one, a perfect airplane page-turner that crashes from glitzy to ghoulish and back with breakneck speed.

The Gargoyle's Captive (Katee Robert, 2023) - my full review is over on patreon for my darling supporters who want me dead (and picked this book in the first place, damn them to hell), but suffice to say this is a fun book to read if you like the sensation of your brain melting out of your nose, if you're really turned on by baby's first bdsm, you are not particularly concerned with trifling matters like "plot coherence" or "character motivation" or "writing that is complex and artful," and/or you've ever wanted to have sex with a dude whose penis is so big that you feel genuinely fear. also, hey, I forgot to include this in my patreon write-up so fuck it: Robert REFUSES to tell us what kind of food the protagonists are eating, ever. whenever they have a meal it's just "the food was placed on the table" "I took a bite" etc. drop me a HINT, man, come on! is it a protein? grain? starches? the only thing I know for sure that they're consuming is wine and a single marshmallow, and god does it show. it's just a very weird and distracting omission and it's absolutely not the worst thing about this book but it is a hill I'm willing to die complaining on.

[sometipsygnostalgic]

"Why is Alola so hated?"

Someone asked this question on Reddit.

The original post:

"Other than too much dialogue what is the worst thing about Alola. Alola is my favorite Pokémon games and region for a multitude of reasons but all I hear about it is that it has too much dialogue. I can understand that but later titles have just as much dialogue especially in the beginning portions of the game. So why is such an issue in these games than any other in the series. Also you thought the GD games were dark, the Aether Family are very dark concept if you want to look into them. Anyways back on topic, why are Alola considered the worst games besides the dialogue of course"

I thought about this question and I ended up writing a lengthy reply, see below. For context I should mention that Sun and Moon were my favourite mainline stories:

"So everyone is mentioning USUM, but since I was around for the launch of the games, I may as well throw my hat into the ring and explain what went wrong:

Everyone was really excited for the games to come out, but there was generally something missing from them. Promotional material was overly vague.

When the original Sun and Moon came out they had the following issues:

The story was very handholdy. I am a GREAT FAN of the story mode, but I have never replayed these games because they are basically visual novels. If you were a Nuzlocker, someone who wanted to replay Pokemon games, or if you didn't like the story, then these versions would automatically become your least favourite because of how long it takes to reach each milestone. It's also easier than a lot of prior games, not as easy as Gen 6 or 8 but up there.

While the region is IMO one of the most cohesive, it's also one of the least expansive. The Alola Region is fucking tiny. There's not nearly as many side things to do as in generations 4 and 5, and the new things they put into the Alola games were a lot less fun gimmick-wise. I like that they abandon the grid system, it needed to go, but Pokemon team don't seem to work well in 3d.

The online multiplayer was total ass. Of course, the online only got WORSE From here on out. How you get worse than Festival Plaza is beyond me, but I think Gen 7 is definitely when Pokemon jumped from having the BEST multiplayer system on Nintendo systems in generation 6 to one of the worst. Personally I was also disappointed the Festival Plaza wasn't a bit more like the Wifi Plaza, which was already a broken terrible mess but at least had some minigames. It seemed to take the wrong inspiration from Wifi Plaza, and tragically Pokemon only went downhill with online compatibility after. Because while technically the online is more fun in gen 8 and 9, it doesn't work.

The games leaked before they came out. Everyone saw concept art of the starters' final evolutions and they were SO MAD that Litten became bipedal. But there were very few surprises in Sun and Moon for people who prowled the reddit, who also seemed to be the least excited about the games.

However, what I don't think you understand is how much LOVE they had. Of all the pokemon games I've been around for the release of, I think Sun and Moon were most unanimously loved. Everyone was talking about the story, and the incredible new designs of the alola pokemon, and yeah they were having a lot of trouble playing online, but people persisted.

When Ultra Sun and Moon came out, people were veeeeery disappointed for three key reasons:

This was a dual release "third version" instead of a sequel. Again, everyone LOVED the story of the original games, by this point it felt that the "third version" idea was dated, and people wanted a damn sequel with their favourite characters! I think BW2 set a very high bar for what the Pokemon team could offer, and unfortunately I don't think they ever met that bar again after they started making 3d games.

It was on the 3DS instead of the Switch. I was NEVER expecting USUM to be Switch games, I knew Pokemon team were not ready for Switch, but for some reason people expected Pokemon Stars to be a Switch game. Everyone was reaaaaally excited for Pokemon Switch after the console launched, but Pokemon has always belonged on the DS, and I felt it had more potential for growth on that console before moving up on the chain. Of course, after the negative reaction to USUM and the begging for Pokemon Switch, Game Freak HAD to start development on Let's Go and Sw/Sh.

The things they'd added into the game were not as impressive as the other Third Versions. Pokemon Emerald and Pokemon Platinum were objective improvements from the original, though I have some things to say about Emerald's pacing. I like the minigames from Ultra, I fell SO in love with the Camera mode!!! Spent so much time fucking around in it and still have a folder in my computer to this day. HOWEVER, the people still yearn for a Battle Frontier! The Battle Factory they put in USUM seems to be based on community, which was already a pain in the ass, and as you know, it's now impossible to play online with others, so RIP to that as well. I like the changes to the Battle Tree, I love Rainbow Rocket, but while Platinum and Emerald were NECESSARY IMPROVEMENTS from the ground up, USUM only improved some of the battles and held down everything else with more, worse cutscenes.

The story was much worse than the original, choosing to cut and change content instead of improve upon what was there. The story of Platinum and Emerald doesn't come across as worse than DP and RS, but EVERYONE thinks the story for USUM is a downgrade. The reason for this is because if Lillie was the true protagonist of the games originally, the Ultra versions tried to cut her down, but only for a couple of her most important scenes. She and Lusamine basically have every scene intact except for their most important, climactic moments. It's like if instead of BW2, they made Pokemon Grey but it was split in half, and instead of being an evil fucko gunning for world domination, Ghetsis was trying to use the power of the two Dragons to stop Kyurem from freezing the world, except he still abused pokemon, and he still abused N from childhood, and N never showed up to become champion and N never realised the truth of pokemon or turned against his father. How terrible would that be?

No remakes or anything special at the end of the gen. For the past few generations we'd either had remakes or sequels, but Gen 7 released USUM and Let's Go. It's debatable whether the Lets Go games are part of gen 7, but I wouldn't consider them remakes the same way that HGSS or ORAS are, and they are CERTAINLY not a favourite with a hardcore Pokemon audience. At least Gen 8/9 had decent DLC and Legends Arceus as a halfhearted apology note, but unfortunately there was no swan song at the end of Generation 7.

I think ultimately that's what made people go from "Gen 7 could be the best yet" to "Gen 7 bad". The launch was very strong, but the followup was the poorest out of almost any gen.

My personal opinion of USUM is it is one of the best pokemon games for general battles, I think it would be a lot more fun to nuzlocke than the original Sun and Moon, but there's a lot of better pokemon games to replay than USUM, especially if you're taking modded into account. I think sun and moon were the most immersive out of the games I've played, at the very least because it had improvements like trainer models in battles without the uncanny as hell stuff you got in the next two gens. I remember the games fondly, even if I do feel bitter about the story changes."

I thought this reply was worth sharing on this blog. I put a lot of effort into it.

[seeyouonsaturn]

pspsps more Prowl yapping 👉👈

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them? (give me more than one song if you wanna >:3c)

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

23. Favorite picture of this character?

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

26. What's something the character has done you can't get over? Be it something funny, bad, good, serious, whatever?

ask game

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them? (give me more than one song if you wanna >:3c)

You know I wanna. I would've done so either way. My character songs are my LIFE.

First one that comes to mind is Lose You Now - Lindsey Stirling. That's just. That's our song. It's my comfort song. I came across it pretty recently during my TFA rewatch and it hit me so hard, it just felt right. Like, yeah, that's it. That's us. It's perfect. I listen to it on a constant loop and it almost feels like he's holding me. We're intertwined. He's always been a part of me, and always will be.

Next up, Saturn - Sleeping At Last. THE Prowlbird song and one of my favorite songs in general (the band is so so so good). I named my blog after this song. It's their ship song <3<3<3

Then we also have the songs from 13 year old me's playlist that I more than likely found through Prowl AMVs back in the day. I didn't speak English very well back then, but these songs have just always had the Prowl Association in my mind and nothing will ever separate them again.

Learn To Be Still - The Eagles

Illusion - VNV Nation

River Flows In You - Yiruma

Considering I mostly listened to the most edgy teen music because teenage me was Not Okay, getting into these types of songs because of Prowl was a Change. They meant so much to me. They still do. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I cannot overstate the lasting impact this motorcycle has had on my life.

I have many MANY more songs for him because I've been on this insanity trip for a long while (the Prowl playlist currently has 111 songs in it), but a lot of them have more personal connections that people that don't know me wouldn't even understand. But I could go on. By Primus I could go on.

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

Bird (jkjk) well i mean I'm not really kidding but also that's my oc I made specifically for him so that's kind of the whole point lmao

I haven't really thought a lot about this much, but Jazz is obviously way up there. I love that they are friends in every universe (you know I ship them anywhere else). They should've had more time together to just hang out and explore Earth instead of constantly being busy with all the fighting and whatnot.

Prowl is introduced as this loner who works by himself and only wound up with the team by chance, and then Jazz shows up and they not only know each other, but they're friends. It's great. I need to know how they became friends in the first place (obviously they met through Yoketron but I still want the story). Jazz is just that friend shaped, not even past Prowl stood a chance.

23. Favorite picture of this character?

You expect me to pick just one? Every moment he ever appears is my favorite picture of him. You could hand me a screenshot of literally any Prowl scene ever and I'd be like "yup that's my favorite" and it would be the truth. I saw a man so beautiful I started crying??

I'm fond of this one though. The lighting is gorgeous. You can just feel his aura in that image.

Honorable mentions, (i need him so bad)

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

This question stumped me so bad, wdym I'm in other fandoms? There is only transformers on my singular brain cell. (And DC, I remember DC, but I can't think of a character there that can hold a candle to Prowl, even though my love for Superman is definitely based on the same vibes). Nobody could ever compare to him. He's also not typically the type of character I'm interested in – everyone knows I'm a villain enjoyer, possibly with a side of dilf, heavy on the trauma. Prowl is unique to me. He's special.

One I can think of is my DC oc Nyim, who's very Prowl coded, even though it was fully unintentional. I did not (or barely) think about Transformers for 13 years. Nyim was created at a time when Prowl was not at all on the mind. But he clearly influences all I do regardless. ❤️

26. What's something the character has done you can't get over? Be it something funny, bad, good, serious, whatever?

Ok technically it's every scene he's ever in. But the first one that came to mind was definitely this one, I will never get over it.

It feels so out of character. He gets one small upgrade and immediately loses his mind Prowl what is wrong with you. I need to know what was going on inside his processor. Why did he think the fake static would work. Why did he do that he's not even good at it. Why did he make a fart noise. Baby did you even try. He was off his shits the entire episode. I love him so much.

[autobot-ratchet]

MTMTE 9-11

MTMTE 9

“You're telling me those eyebrows aren't secret recording devices?” Well, not his eyebrows lmAO

as annoying as it made the fandom, I do like how this comic doesn't just gloss over how the Decepticon movement started out with good intentions and solid points, they weren't cartoon villains who loved to kill and oppress because it's fun. They just ended up that way lmfAO

Rewind's out here making relationship charts

Rewind is so cute lmAO no wonder he was initially one of my faves when I first got into this comic

“Is this Prowl fellow going to be a recurring character? 'Cos if so he needs to be fleshed out a bit. I'm not feeling it” fucking womp womp lmfAO talk to Barber about it

ah, yes. The panel that gave birth to the headcanon that was the bane of my existence for the better part of a decade lmAO honestly it was never even the buymech headcanon in and of itself, it was how everyone who subscribed to it made Drift into a poor little meow meow who needed to be saved from himself, specifically and only through the power of getting dicked down but in the good and respectable way this time that drove me fucking insane lmAO like I get that he has issues, but not the kind that make him helpless, I assure you. Also cool job demonizing sex work as “the scary nasty profession that traumatizes you but is also shameful on your part and you only have the excuse of doing it if you have no other choice”

oh lol I forgot that the same decepticon generics that find Drift tripping in an alleyway are the ones that tried to help Pharma kill everyone on Delphi, including Drift lmAO these dudes just keep fucking with Drift by pure coincidence

love Drift purposefully agitating Ratchet lmAO get his ass. Also still love the little detail of Ratchet getting paint from his hands on Drift's face, it's such a tiny detail only there for one panel, but I cherish it so

nnnfghndf they both still think about it..... oops uh oh I still love Dratchet lmfAO

“These days all you get is state-sponsored scrap or froth like 'the top 10 Metroplex sightings'” god. Fucking. gOD LMFAO THE ABSOLUTE FUCKIN STATE OF IT ALL........

the thing about kinning Ratchet at a young age is that the older you get, the more like him you become. Which is even more fucky in this instance because that was a quote from young Ratchet lmfAO god

aw man I forgot about Red Alert's suicide attempt, poor guy. I remembered that he was out of commission for a while, but I didn't remember that he did it to himself

MTMTE 10

jdfsks love Chromedome using Rung's model ships to reenact a chase scene

oooghfj Prowl being genuinely nice to Chromedome in the past...

lmao get dunked on, Drift. It's still so funny watching him try to be a cool guy at Cyclonus

oooOOOUGFDHJ WHIRL HONEY........ you got done so dirty I'm so sorry

I remember seeing people criticize Rewind for getting on Chromedome's case about talking about his experiences with Prowl a little too much what with his quest to find Dominus, like “oh so YOU can talk about your ex,” but I think that it's less that Rewind is jealous or something and more that it's about Prowl lmAO like “do not evoke the name of that demon more than necessary.” Which still sucks (mostly bc I wanna hear more, I am so interested in how they almost could've made it work, LOVE that kind of doomed romance shit) but is understandable, Prowl has done too much

I also love this little “thwarting government conspiracies” arc, I like how the mystery has played out. I've been playing/watching a lot of mystery-solving media lately and while my favorite way to do it is in a way where the viewer (me) can piece it together before the grand reveal if they're smart enough, I also like how this has the characters figuring things out as they go along in a way that's not really possible to predict bc they put things together immediately after getting the necessary information, there's no “it's a surprise tool that will help us later,” which I think is fine for this one little arc, especially since it's working within the framework of the characters telling a story that they all know the details of already. But it also doesn't feel like I'm being info dumped upon, like we're getting the clues/information at a rate that lets you breathe a little before hitting you with a new piece of the puzzle. I just really love mystery-oriented media lmAO

MTMTE 11

I do love that the group that actually gets to tell a story on screen isn't the first group Rewind put together. Just casually dropping that a bunch of background characters that we never really get to see much of (save for Percy, Sunstreaker, and Blaster) are connected to each other

“he's like a historical constant” stares off into space........

oof Roddy feels responsible for Red Alert's suicide attempt, at least on some level... and he gets mad at Magnus for suggesting they not bring him back online, but honestly, I get it. Honestly, I understand both Roddy and Magnus on this one, as someone who constantly struggles with the whole “wanting to live” thing and yet continues to do so out of mostly spite and desperation. On the one hand, you gotta try to live no matter what, but on the other, god please just let me rest lmfAO granted, Magnus just wants to let him rest a bit and resuscitate him later but. Yknow. As a human that can't do that shit, etc, etc, you get it

this fucking ship's alarm goes “awooga” lmfAO looney tunes ass siren

god that fucking Shockwave namedrop, what a cool way to reveal that, what a cool backstory to give Shockwave aaaAAAAA

[crimsonblackrose]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you. learn to know your mutuals and followers. <3

Omg how long has this been sitting in my inbox? I didn't see it. I'm so sorry, and thank you. I'm going to go with things back home that while I'm here that are bringing me some level of happiness.

1. The sound of the wind through the leaves of the trees, the buzz of the bees as they amble about the flowers that are in bloom and the smell of said flowers. I have to hike through a garden so full of life to go anywhere and it's bringing me so much joy. 2. Friendly cuddly animals. There's something about a giant st. Bernard that's excited to see you and demands cuddles even if it means getting totally slime-d, or a sweet calico cat that the shelter said was mean running towards you in excitement to ask for pets because she's just so happy, or to step out of a car and find a flock of chickens that have come running to say hi. 3. Food. My aunt grows a lot of her own food so every meal is a delight. She's made: eggplant lasagna, a cauliflower crust pizza bursting with veggies, she makes this delightful tea that she switches up with fresh herbs from her garden, the current iteration is basil and parsley, we had salmon patties and have made two pies a strawberry rhubarb and a blueberry and peach. We also went to the local ice cream shop that's only open part of the year and got the soft serve sherbet that has been my favorite since I was a kid. 4. The coops atmosphere. Honestly have never felt super comfortable sleeping at my aunt and uncle's house ever since I was a kid. It's generally full of people I don't know, souvenirs and gifts from my uncle's work with spooky stories generally attached, ghost stories and horror films and then just a vast emptiness that makes me feel a bit like courage the cowardly dog. I've been told countless times the house itself is haunted. And generally I'm put in the one room that no one has said is haunted. But it's summer and that room does not get AC so my aunt and uncle instead have put me in the coop. The coop used to be a chicken coop but then at some point my aunt and uncle refurbished it into a pool room and then decided it was nice enough there to sleep there during the summers because they put in AC. And the atmosphere is something. There is a big pool table, of course, a fire place, air conditioning, a bar, a ye olde fridge full of beer, old school bar art, more souvenirs and gifts from my uncles work which includes more wall space of masks,and because my eldest half-cousin refuses to ever sleep in the house and only sleeps in the coop when he visits the coop is full of all these horror b-movies and cult classics to watch. The atmosphere is fun, the bed is comfy, and it's remarkably spooky despite not being haunted, and I really do get why people like it. I just kinda wish I was sleeping in there alone. 🤣It's like a cool experience I want to share but also be like okay was that sound the wind or do you think something's prowling around out there? It's got wifi, it's got cable tv (I watched part of Clueless yesterday and it was great), it's got AC and a fridge, it's got games, it just really needs a bathroom. 5. The sky. I'm in rural farm country which means there big open spaces and just large swaths of sky without as much light pollution. It's not as much stars as I saw at the home I grew up in, or where I lived in South Korea, but there's still more than there are where I currently live. And during the days where I've been floating around in a pool I can stare up at the sky and watch the clouds just go by and birds soar past. And at dusk there's just so many fireflies/lightning bugs around.

[fallisl1fe]

AAAA Sorry for disappearing (again) I'm kind of struggling- *AHEM* I just open tumblr and my face brightened with golden shine of beautiful animations and arts!!! ✨(Imagine you achieve something in game and game shows that something with cool lights Yes like that XD)

I finished the fic that one you mentioned and my favorite moment is festival as well!! WHY THESE TWO HAVE TO BE THIS CUTE *heart melts* I only could find and read 2 Wing lives AU before but unfortunately both of them unfinished, if you want to check one "Brink Of by kagebros" and there is a oneshot about Wing having nightmare and lots of cuddling "Here With Me" by Kuukkeli if you are interested!

Ofc I would like see your TFP art!! Tfp somehow harder to draw than IDW I think their armor panels lol but only one in tfp I can draw from memory is Megatron XD You can do Soundwave or Predaking if Chef Fall wanna cooking some Tfp recipe! (^w^)

YES YES! I love these concept designs so much!!!! Did you see Wheeljack one? I think he is very cool also I love War for cybertron Rodimus design so much too and his altmode, he looks different in a good way! OH did you post pics of your figure and car toys before?? I would like to see them! I wanted to buy Wing and Rodimus figures but my country customs are stupid (I start rambling too XD)

OKAY NOW TIME TO PRAISE YOU FOR YOUR BEAUTIFUL ARTS WEEEEE🤍🤍🤍

And while I was writing this ask (hello im slow writer lol) you post new one! AAAA I love your animations You did that in 2 hours?? Drift's face and finials moving with emotions Muahh so so good!!! and Prowl's walking cycle with his bouncy door wings I think he is going to see Jazz thats why he's excited >:D

Sorry if any english issues bc my sleepy brain, Have a good day/night and take careee💞🍫

EEEEEE HIII! *waves excitedly* Welcome back to my little internet corner! No need to apologize, we all have our irl lives to attend to. Can't constantly be up to date on the good ol' interwebs. it's completely okay to take breaks, especially if it's health related :3

Oooo those fics sound interesting! I'm adding them to my reading list hehehehe. Can't wait to read them when I get the chance (school has got me in a chokehold rn lmao)! o(｀ω´ )o

HEHEHEHEH I'm so glad you would like to see some TFP art! I just finished my Optimus doodle sheet last night. OMG OMG I would love to do TFP soundwave!! In fact, I was actually planning on drawing him after OP, but I waited so I could see what you wanted. Just so happens we both wanted the same thing XD

Ohoho, Predaking is a difficult one. I can definitely give it a try though! Love that guy's angular face, big horns go brrrrrrr o(^▽^)o

Hmmm, I assume the difference between IDW and TFP is that IDW was made to be drawn in 2D. They are designed specifically for being "easier" to draw, otherwise IDW's artists would've died from exhuastion. TFP only requires one or two models that each animator shares. This means they can be incredibly complicated and no one has to worry about redrawing each detail every time. They also have a lot less cubes, leaning slightly more on the robot side of mecha rather than the more cartoonish, human-like mecha that transformers is known for

OH OH ALSO I just looked up the TFP concept art for Wheeljack and I LOVE IT AAAAAAA. He's just so cool heheheheh! And I have posted some pictures of my figures, but that was about two months ago. I haven't posted any pics of my car toys though. Only recently did I retrieve them from the dismal abyss known as the toy bin. Hold on, lemme take some pictures of them together! >:3

(Dont mind my desk being super short, mini Fall draws here) I chose each car to represent a different TF character that I like :)

And thank you so much!! I'm super glad you like the animations!! I haven't finished one in a long long time so it feels good to finally try it again. If I'm being honest, the main reason I finished in 2 hours was because I've been super busy with school so I have a pretty narrow time window for creative projects. Was hit hard with inspiration while studying and my brain nearly combusted, so I pracitcally ran home to slap the idea down. Even I'm surprised, I don't usually work that fast lol

Anyway, I just finished my homework so Imma go lay down or something now. Thank you again and I hope life treats you well!🤍🤍

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: What do you call a deaf pirate? Not 'Siren Food' apparently, which is really sort of hilarious when you've been kidnapped by a hungry Siren. Not for the Siren though—he's definitely not having a good time.

A/N: *rushes in at the 11th hour* Happy Mer-May!! I've been back and forth with clinical rotations and also working on some commission things and Leona's Part 4, but like, it's a fanfiction holiday. I couldn't miss out. And for one of my favorite tropes nonetheless. So here we are.

[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

There was a legend that floated throughout the Sage Island Seas of the Pirate With No Ears. Which was ridiculous—half because such a tall tale managing to survive so long and so wildly really showed just how pathetic the rest of the gossip around here was, and half because you still had ears. They just didn’t work very well was all.

Some said you’d been deafened by a prowling sea sorcerer who had tricked you into trading away your once keen sense for some mortal foible or other. Others whispered about how you’d been trapped in an ice cavern, surrounded by electric eels and sharks, and that the only way you’d been able to weasel your way out was by cutting off your own ears so that you’d have enough wiggle room to escape from your bindings. Which made absolutely zero sense at all.

In reality, all you’d done was stand far too close to a canon for far too long when you were far, far too little, and ever since all you could hear was the dull ringing of post-battle silence. Sometimes it was a bit sad. When the waves crashed against the shore, or when the gulls flew overhead—you were sure all those things sounded very lovely. You remembered music and laughter and sometimes they echoed in your head at a distance—a memory not quite forgotten but certainly fading at the edges. But other times, like now, where your fellow crewmates were bawling into their ales and wailing about lord knew what… well, it was always nice to find a silver lining in these sorts of things.

One of the tipsy lads tottering around the deck of The Rose Queen tripped and landed against the wood with something that looked like it’d be a very loud smack. Your brain helpfully filled the silence with some nonsense noises and park-play-style laughter instead. You watched Cater stumble by out of the corner of your eye. He patted your head and said something that twisted his mouth into a gaping ‘uuuuu-eeeee-oooo’ before he puttered away to leech off First Mate Clover instead. Ace threw a drunken arm around your shoulder and burbled something against your cheek that popped with the scent of stale booze, and you decided to pretend that you were as alone at sea as your muted senses would like to think.

The party raged on long into the evening and you stared down at the rabble contentedly from your perch in the crow’s nest. They were a good bunch—dullards though they may be. You’d heard (hardee har har) that they were planning to raid the Port o'Bliss, and something must have gone terribly right. You only really hung around to scrub barnacles off the paneling and keep an eye on the tides well enough that Deuce wouldn’t run the lot of you ashore, so you weren’t really sure how the whole ‘pirating’ business actually went about. But clearly they were doing a pretty good job of it.

You rested your chin on your crossed arms and sighed into the salty breeze. The night was warm and pleasant, and before you knew it, you were nodding off against the rough fabric of your sleeves. You weren’t quite sure how long you spent dozing there tangled in the ropes of mast, but it was long enough that by the time you snorted back awake the festive lights had dimmed to embers and most of the crew had sidled away below deck to either keep drinking themselves blind or collapse in a pool of their own colorful vomit.

There was a lone figure swerving towards the bow—precariously close to the railing for someone so clearly unsteady on their own legs, if you did say so yourself. You squinted suspiciously at his mused lavender hair, not entirely sure you recognized the head bobbing around below you. But perhaps The Rose Queen had picked up some fresh recruits at the Port, or maybe the crew had gotten a bit too booze happy with some dye. Purple Hair leaned up against the rails and tipped forward on his toes like he was thinking about diving in, or maybe barfing. Either or, you sighed and shimmied your way down to stop him from tumbling into a watery grave.

“Oi!” you called, the shout vibrating up and out of your throat, and the kid jumped half a foot in the air. “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from there. Riddle’ll have your head if we have to send out the rescue rafts this late at—”

The kid turned to face you with wide, wide, glowing eyes. Your own went round as dinner plates as you watched his too-dark pupils pulse like drumbeat. They were so bright, practically illuminating the whole of his delicate face, but there was no light to them. Matte and sleek like a shark’s eyes.

He shouted something at you so whip fast that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and then he was glancing nervously back and forth between the roiling waves at his back and the encroaching deckhand at his front—making all sorts of nonsense gestures that had you sighing behind gritted teeth.

“Look,” you said, interrupting whatever indiscernible gibberish he was spouting, “I don’t know who you think you are. But you’ve picked the wrong ship to try and—I don’t know—seize? Pirate? You can’t pirate a pirate ship! But either way, you—”

Then the kid opened his mouth like he was screaming, and you frowned again. There was strange prickle along your arms that had goosebumps crawling up your skin and the hair raising at the back of your neck, but you shook it off and moved forward with another weary sigh. You pulled a length of rope from the belt slung around your hips and held the limp bundle of salt-soaked mesh up like a threat.

“I will throw you overboard. And hogtie you first,” you promised cheerily. “So you actually sink.”

Purple Hair just looked like he was trying to scream louder, and you were sourly tempted to stick your fucking tongue out at him and make petulant ‘nyeh nyeh nice try’ noises at him, but then there was a heaviness behind you. A creak in the wood that you could feel if not hear. You rolled out of habit—tumbling across the deck just in time to avoid a nasty swipe along your back. And oh no. The thing crawling up over the railing was worse than any lavender would-be ship thief. The black tipped claws and flared fins were telling enough, but the sharp-toothed grin was somehow more so. It tilted its unnaturally lovely head at you and spoke politely—clearly and very, painfully, slowly.

“What’s—this—perhaps—” you were able to vaguely make out. Maybe. The dark and your panic were both a terrible hindrance to putting shapes to sound. His lips curled into something wicked before parting far more smoothly than the younger man’s had. Singing. It was singing, not screaming. Hauntingly green eyes glowed bright and you felt the tunk tunk tunk beneath your feet of the rest of the crew starting to move around beneath you. Around you.

Then there were more of them—crawling up over the railings, trilling into the night air. All far too lovely and far too sharp to be anything but predators. The moonlight illuminated their fangs and scales in a ghostly white glow. There were shivers running along your spine, but otherwise nothing but silence echoed through your head. Small mercies. You watched several of your fellow crewmates rush out of the cabins only to double over with their hands clasped over their ears. Others stuttered and tumbled forward towards the railings as if they were being dragged along like puppets on a string. You cursed and ducked between them—looping your rope around their legs as you went and tugging them to their knees like a line of falling dominoes.

You let your hapless comrades collapse to the deck and curled the last throws of rope around your fists. You were decent enough with a knife when it came to dueling an unmoving, completely unaware foe—like a barnacle or some rusted over door hinges. But real people? Sirens?Fucking literal blade-tipped-merfolk straight out of every sailor’s nightmare? No thank you. So the teeny blade stayed sheathed at your hip and you dove into the fray to find something rope-wrangle-able.

At the other end of the bow, you watched Purple Boy straighten from a crouch. There were new, silvery blue scales crawling up his neck and forearms. He was still tottering around on legs that he clearly wasn’t all too used to, and you watched as the little guppy started to make a furious beeline for Captain Rosehearts. Which—no. Absolutely not. You were never one of those pirates who was like ‘oh, Captain, my Captain~’ but Riddle was good. He was tough, and taciturn, and could throw a tantrum that could bring down an entire harbor. But he’d written out all of his ridiculous six hundred rules by hand so that you could have them. And the teeny furrow in his brow as he staunchly taught himself hand sign after hand sign so that he could yell at you in earnest was so endearing that you’d protect that little firecracker for as long as you breathed.

So you went after Lavender Head, and then of course Lavender Head turned and tried to shout at you all over again. When that continued to not work at all, the Siren began to backpedal in earnest. He turned his head and squawked at whoever was around to listen, but in the chaos of the attack there didn’t seem to be many of his pod free to lend him a hand.

You descended on the little snake, rope at the ready and perfectly happy to make sushi out of the fucker, when something big overshadowed the both of you. Another Siren crested over the side of the ship, larger and clearly more impressive than the rest of its kin. Which matched your stupidly terrible luck just fine. Ah, yes, Mister Big Bad. Please. Go for the deckhand rather than the literal trained mercenaries less than ten feet away. Brilliant. The Siren bared its fangs like some great, terrible, beast and tore into the paneling with its curved claws as it attempted to drag you down to your watery grave. You cursed, and kicked, and yelped in a panic when the thing managed to get one of those cold, pale hands around your ankle.

Despite the fact that all of it surely happened in less than a few seconds, your descent seemed to progress in steps. First, the Siren tugged you over the side. Second, you smartly flipped the loops of your rope up to try and lasso yourself a handhold. Thirdly, you outright missed the ship and instead tangled the spools of thin rope all around your Murderer To Be. Said Murderer’s eyes widened in shock as your unintentional trap wrapped the both of you up like a mess of bugs in a spider web. And finally, the pair of you crashed towards the churning ocean in a knotted-up heap and slowly sank beneath the waves.

.

.

You rubbed the grit and salt from your eyes and sat up with a groan. Where were you? Not too far out at sea, hopefully. Washing up ashore had been nothing short of a miracle, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant you got to avoid becoming chum for another day. The sand beneath your fingers was soft and white, and it slipped beneath your palm like water. You moved to push yourself to your feet and froze—a blur of amethyst swiping out and knocking you back onto your ass with a splash.

You spluttered and spat, and had just barely managed to flip yourself over like a turtle who’d been upended on its back when you caught sight of the absolute last creature in the world that you’d ever wanted to see again.

The big Siren had washed up nearby.

Because of course it had.

The creature narrowed his eyes at you and immediately set about lashing his rope-twisted tail against the sand like a rattlesnake. He bared his pointed teeth in a hiss and you were dowsed in a barrage of saltwater ammunition.

“Stop! Stop!” you begged, spitting out wayward chunks of seaweed, and shells, and gods knew what else. “I get it! I won’t come near you, jeesh! I wasn’t planning on it to begin with!”

The Siren curled his lips unpleasantly, putting that wonderful row of dagger-like pearly whites on display. He spat something completely indiscernible—the line of his mouth so harsh and flat that you couldn’t have even begun to pick up the shape of things if you tried—and you scooted as far back as you could without toppling yourself over again.

He dug his clawed hands into the sand and said something else, just as clipped and tight. You assumed it was an accusation. You were very used to recognizing the glare that accompanied those. When you didn’t respond, his brow tugged down low and he snapped something else—this time jabbing those pointed, black, nails in your direction. Ah, so definitely a complaint then.

You cocked your head at him out of habit and that griping turned into a snarl so ferocious that you could feel it racing up your skin like static. Which was definitely pretty trippy.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you told him honestly. Which just made the spiked fins flatten all along the side of his head and another wave of those zippy sneers dance up your arms. “Literally,” you tried. “I—”

The Siren opened his mouth and that sparky static from earlier amplified into something near painful. It was strong, and prickly, and left the imprints of invisible shackles all along your already aching joints. You could feel his voice carrying on the breeze—brushing against your cheeks and playing with hair. Thin, icy, fingers digging their way into your brain and yanking. But there was something missing from all that ethereal hypnotism. Something pleasant and sweet to complete the circle of temptation. A voice, you’d guess. There had to be a call after all, or else it hardly mattered how deep and all encompassing the need was to answer.  

When you didn’t immediately, like, fall to your knees in subjugation or drown yourself in the inch and a half of tepid water pooling at your hips, the Siren’s eyes dimmed with something that almost looked like hesitance. His brow pinched tight and he parted his red lips wider. A seagull dropped from the sky. Three different crabs crawled out of the sand to bow down.

“I can’t hear you!” you tried again, loud enough to have your teeth aching. His mouth went wider, and an entire ass tuna beached itself to flop pathetically near your ankles. “It’s not a challenge!” you wailed. “My ears literally, actually, do not work, you fucking overgrown anchovy!”

The static disappeared all at once, and the Siren’s lips slipped into a small, surprised sort of ‘o.’ He blinked his too-long lashes at you and stared you down like you were some sort of escaped alchemical experiment.

“There,” you huffed. “Finally.” And then went quiet and a bit concerned. Because apparent Song Immunity or otherwise, the thing was still hugely impressive and scary looking. His claws definitely wouldn’t have any problem picking the leftover bits of you out of his teeth, and you knew well enough that if he dragged you into the depths with that powerful tail of his, there would be no resurfacing.

The Siren too was using this time to glare at you like you were somehow a threat to be taken seriously. Which was half flattering, half pretty funny.

“Well…” you said after a long moment. “I should get going, I suppose.”

You made your way to your feet in the mucky sandbar and started heading off to see where you’d been stranded. You could feel the Siren’s heavy gaze on you the whole while, and decided he was probably trying to figure out if you’d taste better paired with seaweed or a nice jellyfish spread.

.

.

The pair of you had been stranded on a small, crescent, islet that couldn’t even rightly call itself an island. You were able to walk from its curling east to west coasts in just under fifteen minutes, and that was at a meandering pace where you stopped to peer into all kinds of little grottos and rocky formations. There was some vegetation at the heart of it—short palm trees and tufts of grassy knolls—and thankfully a few deep divots that had collected some still rainwater, but otherwise it was entirely boring and stupid. Not even any weird tortoises or anything meandering about to make friends with.

By the time you circled back around to your original stranding point, you had fully expected the Siren to have flipped you the metaphorical bird and fucked off back into the ocean, never to be seen again. Instead, he was still stretched out in the shallows of the bay, carefully fanning his long tail out in the seafoam and picking through the mess of it with his pointy claws.

He reminded you of a beta fish—with wide, flowing, fins that looked far more like silk than skin or scales. The tips were a deep, plum purple that gently faded from near black to violet and finally a vivid sort of lilac at their junction. The bulk of his tail looked like it could be made from literal gemstones with the way it shimmered in the morning light (gems that had perhaps been a bit dinged and/or literally torn out in chunks from where he may or may not have been smashed into the rocky shore curtesy of your terrible hogtie, but who’s to say).

There were jagged cuts lining the right half of his pale torso. They oozed a strange sort of silver ichor that was probably some kind of mystical merman blood, but you absolutely refused to get close enough to try and find out. The fins framing his pelvis were tangled and thin looking, and the sweeping ones that trailed all the way down to the tip of his tail were battered and torn. Clearly pulled to bits by your handy, dandy lasso skills. Which… was still tied up at the base of them. Huh. You’d assumed he’d be able to slice through all that knotwork without issue. But maybe…

You approached the Siren cautiously. You caught the exact moment he must have realized you’d returned because the fins along the sides of his head flattened like the ears on a pissy cat and he turned on you with a very dramatic snarl that probably sounded all sorts of menacing.

“Hello,” you greeted, and the merman spat something that you assumed was probably a very polite ‘fuck right off.’

You nodded because, well, fair enough. And then pointed to his injured fins and the waterlogged ropes still twisted up around the heart of them.

“I can get that off if you promise not to eat me.”

He shouted something no doubt very indignant and then was back to hissing at you. Which definitely didn’t sound like an agreement not to immediately murder you on the spot.

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Your loss, I suppose.”

Well, your loss, really. Keeping a wounded Siren around was just asking for trouble. Their pods were viciously protective for one thing, and that wasn’t even taking into account the poachers and rivals who’d be more than keen to come sniffing after the fresh trail of blood in the water. Maybe you could find a big stick or something and just, I don’t know, push him back into the ocean and be done with it.

The thought must have shown on your face, because suddenly he was smacking his tail against the sandbar and spitting something that you very much assumed was a demand along the lines of ‘you are going to take accountability for this.’

Which absolutely no way in Hell. He’d kidnapped you sort of, so that made you his problem, thank you very much.

You felt your stomach gurgle, and it must have been pretty loud going off the stink eye he sent your way. You turned your nose up at him and went about collecting the various critters that had been washed ashore in his tenor’s tantrum.

“Thanks for the food!” you chirped petulantly as you worked on scaling the tuna with the knife from your belt—making long, pointed, eye contact as you did so.

The Siren sneered at you and went back to grooming the shredded ends of his fins.

The rest of the afternoon became a sort of pissing contest between the two of you to see who could earn the title of Bitchiest Beach Bitch. You thought you were definitely winning with the whole ‘eating something that could have been his long-lost cousin’ thing, but then he went and swamped the entirety of the small fire you built (and all of said ‘cousin’ being cooked over it) with one sweep of his tail, so now you were at the very least tied. You set up a nice little shaded hutch out of driftwood and ferns to escape the sun, he called down seagulls to shit all over it and pick it to pieces. He tried to roll around to reach some of the tighter fibers tangled in his pectoral fins, and you chucked rocks at him until he reared on you with a scream that had all the hairs on your arms standing on end. Y’know. Perfectly mature things like that.

That night you curled up beside a tall, jagged rock just at the outskirt of the bay—determined to get some shut eye but to also keep within range of your newest pest in case he decided to try and pull something sneaky. But every time you’d just about settled in to sleep, the shallow tide would lap against your toes in harsh shush shush shushes that had you furrowing you brow until you finally had enough and sat up to see what all the hubbub was about.

The Siren was tossing around in the shallows like a fish in a net—throwing his long body against the bindings and flailing like his life depended on it. And as much as he’d definitely deserved to get caught up in your unintentional hogtie, watching something as large and no doubt powerful as he was wriggling around like a worm on a hook was… Well. Something soured a bit in your gut as you watched him give one, final, great buck against his bindings before collapsing back into the shallows in a circle of seafoam. He panted against the surface of the water, the tips of his pale hair dripping down in a curtain around his haggard face, and you could see a fine tremor running along his shoulder blades.

You turned back to your rock and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes, fighting the absolute batshit insane urge to feel bad for a monster who had literally tried to drag you to your death less than twenty-four hours ago.

The water was calm and still for the rest of the night.

.

.

The next morning, you picked up a few of the crabs who had crawled up to shore and went about getting them clean and fit for eating. You glanced at the Siren, who was busy preening over his janky fins and fussing over his hair. It was entirely unfair that you probably looked like a half-drowned rat, and yet this creature that wasn’t even meant to exist on the surface was somehow managing to put himself together well enough to rival the courtesans you’d seen meandering around some of the wealthier coastal towns.

You stared at the crabs. There were three of them. It wasn’t really sharing if it was meant to be a bribe to keep him from eating you whole. Or at least, that’s what you reassured yourself as you cautiously tiptoed back to the water’s edge.

The Siren swiveled on you with a snap of something that looked sort of like a ‘What?!’ and you held up one of the gutted crabs in offering.

“I don’t know if you all eat fish or whatever, but…” You waved the limp crab awkwardly.

The Siren rolled its purple eyes and said something fast and sharp that you couldn’t really parse. Something, something, not, something, something, are crust—Something, something, are you that stupid? (you recognized the impressions of those words well enough to mouth them even in your sleep).

“Look, do you want it or not?” you interrupted, and he bristled—all those delicate, violet, fins flaring up like a porcupine’s spikes.

The Siren crossed his arms stiffly and pointedly turned in the other direction with a mutter of something you had no hopes of catching.

“Whatever,” you snapped and went to bite into your meal. Only to immediately forget that these pointy little fuckers still had their shells on them. You reeled back with a yelp as you stabbed a million, tiny, carapace-shaped holes in your tongue.

The fucking Siren had the gall to turn back around so that you could see him laughing at you.

.

.

That night he was back to flipping around in the shallows like a miniature hurricane.

You counted out the waves sloshing against your heels, telling yourself you’d intervene in his self-destructive tsunami once it hit one hundred. And then it became two, then three. You shifted hesitantly to peek over the rock’s edge and watched him curl into himself like some terribly wounded creature before shaking himself out of the fog of pain that had clearly settling over his nerves, and then continued with his nonsense.

You hurled a big, pink seashell at his head and he whipped on you like a rabid dog, practically foaming at the mouth and raring for a fight. When he lunged forward with the waves—seething with hatred, and blame, and nearly crashing onto his already shredded front in the process, something angry in your snapped.

“Look, fish face! You were the one who attacked me! You!” you demanded, stomping perhaps a bit closer than would be rational. “So stop acting like I’m some scheming shithead who was planning to trap you like this from the start!”

The Siren roared something back and slapped his tail in the surf. Static zipped along your cheeks and you grit your teeth. He glared at you bitterly and then began to repeat one word over and over—slow and angry.

‘Eeeeehhh-Pppe-llllll’ said his lips. Strong and harsh with the shape of it.

And then he was back to spewing all kinds of rapid-fire vitriol that you wouldn’t have bothered to keep track of even if you could. Something in his expression shifted almost quicker than you could notice and he lifted his massive tail out of the water. He smacked the fins in your direction and pointedly jabbed a clawed finger at the creases of them—where delicate, silky, tendrils met strong, gem toned, muscle. Where the purple was light and clean. A pale, shiny, lavender. Almost just like—

“That kid?” you frowned. “You attacked me because of Purple Head?!”

He sneered again and pointedly sent a splash of seawater into your face.

“You—” you grit your teeth. “He was still attacking us first! He was going after my friend!” you snapped, kicking your own wave back. For all the good it would do. “You don’t get to act all noble and protective, and like any of that makes any difference when you all were going to eat us!”

The Siren’s face twisted up like you’d force fed him soured milk, and he looped back around with a dramatic fwoosh of water to dive into the shallows. It was maybe two or three feet deep at best, and he was barely submerged. Not to mention how utterly ridiculous it looked to see a creature that was no doubt usually the peak of grace and athleticism reduced to flopping belly first into the waves with his proverbial legs tied up behind him. But you recognized a door slamming in your face when you saw it, no matter the species. Fine. Let him be a petty bastard. He could rot away in the sandbar for all you cared.

.

.

The next day you woke up with goosebumps crawling up and down your limbs.

There were all sorts of gulls crash-landed in the sand around you and more sad, little, sea creatures gasping on the beach than you dared to count. You shoved a particularly chubby octopus back into a tidepool as you passed and wondered just what sort of nonsense your co-strandee was getting up to now.

The Siren was circling the bay with his head held high above the low waves—lips parted and clearly caterwauling like a dying porpoise. The surface of the water trembled with whatever was making its way out of his mouth, and he looped and looped around the shores. It reminded you of the time you’d seen a whale calf separated from its pod. It had gotten trapped in a shallow inlet when the tides had changed, and your ship had been anchored just off the same coast. You’d watched it circle and circle, lifting its heavy snout to snort sharp jets of water into the air. Deuce had passed you a scribbled note when you’d asked him what it sounded like.

‘It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.’

There was a moment where the Siren paused in his paces and tilted his head. The fins there flared out to the side, like he was listening for something. But after a long moment the spines drooped back against his damp hair and he went back to his singing an aria to no one.

‘It’s looking for its family,‘ Riddle had signed to you when you’d asked him why the calf didn’t simply leave once the tides had turned in its favor. ‘This is where they last saw it, so this is where it will stay.’

“Maybe they forgot about him already,” you mused petulantly, turning back towards the center of the islet to try and scavenge up something to eat from all the poor creatures who had collapsed beneath your nemesis’s wailing.  

The bitter thought wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it ought to be.

.

.

That night, the waters were still.

You squinted suspiciously at the merman curled in the shallows of the bay. He’d pulled himself half-out of the water, resting his more human looking bulk in the soft sand as gentle waves lapped at his tail. He slept on his front with his arms crossed beneath his pointed chin—his unbound fins sticking up behind him in a way that deliriously reminded you of bedhead. You watched him carefully for nearly an hour, searching for any tightness in his muscles or change in his breathing that might indicate he was faking it. But as the evening stretched on and he never lurched awake to try and gauge your eyes out, you assumed he might actually be properly resting.

He'd been swimming in circles all day—the aborted, stuttering, beats of his bound tail looking painful even by your non-tail-having standards. Eventually the tremors along the ocean had grown stuttered and strange, like perhaps his voice was giving out on him. And once that had happened, he’d curled up exactly where he was now. And hadn’t moved since.

You stared at the Siren hesitantly. He was certainly in enough of a state that you could probably pull off that whole ‘shoving him into the depths with a stick’ thing. He’d probably just let you do it—sink to the bottom in a mess of shredded fins and tangled twine and never rise again.

You gnawed at your lip, feeling something unpleasantly hot and sticky twist up your stomach.

The knife glinted between your fingers and you thought of crying whales and of the crew that you already missed so much that it felt like a gnawing chasm had opened in your chest.

You huffed out a miserable sigh and lamented for not the first time in your life that you really were just so fucking stupid sometimes. And then you were cautiously making your way down towards the waterline and the sleeping Siren sprawled out in the sand. Slowly—so very, very slowly—you tiptoed towards the mer and tried to get a quick glance at what amounted to the worst of the damage.

The rope had been thin and long, and the more he’d struggled, the more he’d dug the twine into his fins. You reached forward at half speed and slipped the blade into one of the too-tight creases beneath the bindings. You winced a bit in sympathy at the raw, pink skin beneath. No wonder he hadn’t been able to just rip the fibers away. He’d probably just ended up tugging them over and over against the oozing wounds beneath.

The first strand broke beneath your fingers with something that almost felt like a pop. Like seams ripping on a shirt. You glanced quickly at the sleeping Siren to confirm he was still lost to the world and not gearing up to bite your fingers off at the knuckle, and then continued making your way through the worst of it. It reminded you a bit of the time Ace had accidentally snared a sea turtle in one of his fishing nets and the lot of you had spent the better part of an hour slowly working the thing free of the seemingly endless tangles. You delicately worked the tightest edges away from the harsh indentations they’d left against his scales and peeled back the muckier bits with enough gentleness to avoid mangling anymore of his already battered fins.

The last of the rope finally came away with a satisfying, wet weight and you let it fall to the sand beside you with a pleased nod. Now you could let Mister Merman swim away in the morning with no unpleasantly gross sense of moral obligation weighing down your consciousness. Maybe he’d even be thankful enough to look at you with something other than a venomous glare for once. Certainly nothing like the one leveled at you right now. And—

Oh.

You didn’t even have time to properly gasp before you were being flipped and pinned into the wet sand. The Siren loomed over you, digging his black claws into your shoulder until you could feel the first pricks of blood breaking the surface. He snarled in your face, the curtain of his pale blonde hair shadowing his eyes in something so dark it was nearly black. The brilliant purple cast off his glowing irises were like little spots of stars in an otherwise empty night sky.

He leaned forward, teeth bared, and then some sort of tight expression flickered over his face. He paused, brow tugging together steep and angry. He hunched down once more, fangs at the ready, and then ducked back out. He shook his head, like he was trying to clear fog from his brain, and then he was snapping his canines at you all over again.

The Siren reared back with a booming snarl that sent ripples through the soft tide lapping at your ankles. He turned with one, final, icy glower and dove back into the shallows, disappearing beneath the surface in a flash of amethyst scales. He flicked his tail sharply as he went, and one of the tattered fins snapped against your nose with enough of a crack to make you yelp.

You sat up in disbelief, rubbing at your aching skin and watching in outright consternation as the great predator of the oceans swam tight laps beneath the warm waters of your little lagoon—fins occasionally cresting over the surface to smack pointed fistfuls of water into your gaping face.

Deliriously, one of The Rose Queen’s hundreds of nonsensical rules bounced about your head. Happy to fill the otherwise entirely empty space behind your eyes.

‘Never save a Sea Serpent on a Sunday,’ Riddle had demanded, hands at his hips. ‘No Serpents, or Sea Horses, or Sirens to speak of.’

‘Man,’ you thought wildly, brain high on adrenaline and static as you watched one of the aforementioned Sirens swan about like he hadn’t probably just been a half second away from gnawing on your literal bones. ‘If I get out of this alive, Captain’s definitely gonna collar me this time.’

.

.

.

[TAG LIST]

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[elfdragon12]

So I've seen Pokemon and Transfomers fandoms both complain about their "G1" diehard fans...

But... I gotta say... They really don't hit the same. Maybe it might be that I've seen less gratuitous Transformers "geewunner" whining becoming a fan in 2021 than I've seen gratuitous Pokemon "genwunner" whining growing with that fandom. Probably because the TF geewunners are less likely to be on Twitter or Tumblr than Pokemon genwunners. I'm also the same age as the Pokemon genwunners, so I'm more inclined to roll my eyes.

On the flip side...

New Pokemon content doesn't change the old content. It just adds to it. If you're bellyaching about gen 5 because you love gen 1 so much, it's silly because gen 1 Pokemon and storylines will always be the same. Gen 5 just has a new set of characters/Pokemon and happens in a different location. And gen 1 has 2 different remakes, so, if you just want to play gen 1 on a new handheld with updated graphics, it will be there and almost entirely untouched outside of updated gameplay. (Also, genwunners are dumb because gen 2 is the superior gen.) Along with that, a lot of the complaints genwunners have about new gens typically apply to their beloved gen 1 ("Pokemon based on real animals" as if Geodude, Ditto, Magnemite, Koffing, Grimer, Onix, Clefairy, and Jigglypuff don't exist). And the TV show is the same one that's been going since I and my siblings turned on afterschool cartoons in the mid/late-90s. There's no reboot.

New Transformers content... Does change things. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. Like, cartoons and comics don't age like video games do. If you can't bare with new content, your preferred adaptation will always be there and accessible. However, if you are open to new content, your most favorite character is likely going to be completely different... If they're even present. Like, Starscream is pretty much the only constant--largely the same in every version. Prowl from TFA is in no way, shape, or form the same character as he is in G1. Arcee is worlds different in TFP than G1. Optimus is totally different in G1, TFA, and TFP... And this isn't even going into the comics. Ironhide is not the same in the Bay movies or TFA or G1... Even outside of the original, I'm not a big fan of what TFA did with Beast Wars characters (I will loudly proclaim how Rattrap gets done dirty outside of his original iteration because it's like other writers don't even really understand who Rattrap was).

And I do think it's fair* if you were personally close to a story and excited to see a new take on it to feel upset when you find that most everything you love about it has been completely changed and is almost unrecognizable to what you've loved. (*To a certain extent. If you're screaming at kids because they like Cyberverse over G1, you gotta take a chill pill.) While there are Transformers geewunners that truly do carry it too far, I do hold sympathy for fans who just want something that genuinely reflects what they loved as a child. Acting like everyone who cares about/prefers G1 is just some geewunner whiner is disingenuous and in bad faith.

[sombrehysteria]

⊰#ThєSєvєηDєαđlySιηs.⊱

By Kαthєrιηє Pιєrcє.

Chαptєr oηє : #Prιđє.

[— You'rє just α pαtchєđ up đolls comιηg loosє αt thє sєαms. You'rє just α stιtchєđ up puppєt chαsιηg somєoηє єlsє's đrєαms. —]

[[The silver crust of the Moon and the twinkling stars paint my night with such a beautiful essence that it could almost make me forget about my rage — almost. A crow circles the house I've been observing for hours with an angel's patience. . . I wouldn't be surprised if its black feathers turned to skin, a skin still marked with each kiss and bite I was begged to offer. Damon Salvatore is mine and has been from the first moment he saw me. He didn't know back then that when his ocean hues met the characteristic brown of mine, he was doomed to throw his heart at my feet. . His brother, even though younger, was a tougher nut to crack. All he wanted and was looking for was love, the one thing I thought I'd never be capable of again. Somehow, when trying to push him down the trap, I fell with him — I fell [for] him. Each word that fell from his succulent and oh so deliciously fun to corrupt lips are anchored to my mind and heart — for always and forever.

Might be the reason I'm here, standing on the sidewalk with a cigarette in hand. Looking like someone else has always been something I've had a hard time dealing with. Being compared to Tatia, for example. But I could always comfort myself with the thought that she was dead and probably nothing but dust.

Elena Gilbert is alive, and not only does she look like me, but she also prowls around the Salvatore's like the Devil waiting to claim new souls. Elijah will sure soon be counted among her innocent-act victims. She's everything men would want me to be, but I don't know how such thing is even possible. We share the same face but her aura is so different from my own, so weak and pathetic. I know most men tend to love a damsel in distress, but there's a limit not to cross, else it becomes ridiculous. She's standing in [my] spotlight and if she has no problem doing so, she might enjoy to lay in my shadow as well. Her righteous place. She should be dead, holding hand with Tatia and all the others (the devil knows how many) who weren't not up to the challenge. Surviving through the centuries and walking over whoever dares to ever threaten our bloodline. I'd be fine being the only Petrova alive, for only

[I] possess the fire diverse creatures all talk about. Katherine Pierce is unique, a work of art.

Slow steps lead me to the front door, and thanks to sweet aunt Jenna's naivety nothing is easier than to get it. As a leather boot pushes the door open, sensitive hearing picks up all the noises in the house. Both idiots are sleeping upstairs, and the carbon copy is scratching words in her journal in the kitchen. Guess she had a lot to confide seeing she came back late, a hand on Stefan's arm. She doesn't even notice I'm watching her. . . (I know what you're thinking, what a dumb girl, right?) I'm not impressed by what I'm seeing. Her hair doesn't look near as good as mine and is as flat as her ass and chest, her lips are a dull tint of pink, and her clothes are cheap. . Can tell she doesn't know how to take advantage of the tantalizing body she's been given. Might be the clothes, but I can see a few differences between her and I. The clothes or my pride. Despite all my efforts at trying to understand, I can't find any reason as to why they would replace me with [that]. Right, I always forget about her little, irking smiles and her good heart. Ew. Not a single flame burning within her. She's more like water, or piss. A little warm but no spark, disgusting and forgettable once she's out your system. Bet Damon would forget her in a nanosecond if I walked back in his life. Stefan's romantic soul would be harder to persuade but then again, that's nothing I haven't been through before.

As I clear my throat for the little dove to look at me, her pen falls out her hand. "K-Katherine" she whispered under her breath, desperately trying to control her fear. "You can't be here, you weren't invited" she adds, getting up from her chair, her clumsiness almost making her fall to the ground.]] Don't fall now, you will have plenty of time to observe the ground from under once I'm done with you. [[A lone finger traces circles on the counter as I get dangerously closer to her. Her instinct is to snatch a knife from the sink, what doesn't fail to make me laugh. . . An evil laugh echoing through the room.]] You'd use my favorite weapon against me? Elena, Elena. Don't you know there's nothing you can do against me? If I want you dead, dead you will be. The sooner you accept it, the less painful it will be. [[Without warning, a lethal hand closes around the blade and even though she's pulling on it with all the strength she can gather and making me bleed in the process, I take it from her and shove it deep into her chest.]] Patience has never been my forte. . Can't even waste time torturing you although I've been thinking it through for a week. [[Juts my bottom lip into a faux pout "Katherine" Stefan's voice, the one I could recognize in a crowd. "What did you do?" Tears up his bright emeralds when I turn around, he's unable to move due to both the shock and pain.]] Not that I thought you could truly forget me, but a reminder is always nice, my love. I've told you we would be reunited, and here I am. [["You're delusional if you think I'm still under your spell, and there was no other reason to love you. Don't try and pretend you've done this to get me back. You've — he pauses for an instant because of the pain strangling him — killed her out of your fucking [#Prιđє]. . .]]

[lexi-bloom]

Age: 0 years

I was born a female in Tokyo, Japan. I was a planned pregnancy.

My birthday is August 30. I am a Virgo.

My name is Lexi Bloom.

My father is Ichiro Bloom, a real estate agent (age 40).

My mother is Yui Bloom, an Army enlistee (age 26).

Age: 1 year

I banged on a xylophone that I found in my crib.

Age: 2 years

My mother has been promoted to Staff Sergeant.

I threw a tantrum when my mother took me to the doctor's office to get vaccinated.

Age: 3 years

I'm starting to think that naptime is the worst time of the day.

I let another child play with my favorite toy.

Age: 4 years

My mother has been promoted to Sergeant First Class.

Residents of Uruguay have largely converted to hempseed-based protein as their main source of nutrients.

Age: 5 years

I went home with my head hung low after I peed myself in front of the other kids at the park.

Age: 6 years

My mother has been promoted to Master Sergeant.

I have been enrolled in elementary school at Yuki Kishimoto Elementary School.

I learned how to tie my shoes.

Age: 7 years

I was appreciative to my parents for taking me on a road trip to visit relatives in Kyoto, Japan.

Age: 8 years

I'm starting to think my dad may be a superhero.

I admitted to my parents that I broke their mailbox.

Age: 9 years

My classmate, Hideki, acted up in Mrs. Kaneko's class. I laughed at his antics.

I was sent to the headmaster's office for encouraging a misbehaving classmate.

I argued with the headmaster, Mr. Huang.

I received a warning from the headmaster.

Age: 10 years

My mother has been promoted to Sergeant Major.

I told some of the girls in my neighborhood I wasn't interested in going to see "Beam Me Up Ryuki" with them.

Age: 11 years

My classmate, Satoru, asked me out.

I am now going out with Satoru Fukuda.

Age: 12 years

Satoru started lower secondary school.

My mother and my father had a baby boy named Takeshi, my new brother. He was an accidental pregnancy.

I started lower secondary school at Hana Fujita Lower Secondary School.

Satoru broke up with me.

I lunged at Satoru!

I impaled his nose.

He lunged at me!

He busted my jugular.

Age: 13 years

I have stepped in gum 74 times this year and it's only April.

Age 13: l have stepped in gum 74 times this year and it's only April.

I have been diagnosed with depression.

I got my first period.

Age: 14 years

My mother and my father had a baby boy named Rento, my new brother. He was conceived after my father's condom broke.

My classmate, Akari, asked me to help her cheat in Mrs. Ikeda's class.

I visited the headmaster's office and reported my classmate, Akari, for for trying to get me to help her cheat.

The headmaster, Mr. Kato, said he would look into it.

Age: 15 years

I started upper secondary school at Yu Tanaka Upper Secondary School.

I decided to see what extracurricular activities were available at my new upper secondary school.

Age: 16 years

Iraq has enforced an asset freeze on Puerto Rico.

I am cured of depression.

I am heterosexual.

Age: 17 years

I think my teacher may be experiencing gas issues.

I was cut from the cross country team for performance reasons.

Age: 18 years

My little brother, Takeshi, started elementary school.

I graduated from upper secondary school.

I've been wondering how many people have actually had seizures watching "Stranger Things".

I applied to university and was accepted.

My parents refused to pay my university tuition.

My application for a scholarship to university was rejected.

I took out a student loan to pay for my university tuition.

I started a university program in music.

Age: 19 years

I've been thinking a lot lately about what it would be like if I had a doppelgänger out there somewhere, and also wondering what my hypothetical lookalike is doing right now.

I passed my driving test and got a driving license.

Age: 20 years

My little brother, Rento, started elementary school.

My ex-boyfriend, Satoru, asked to get back together with me. I agreed to get back together with him.

Age: 21 years

I witnessed a Soundcloud rapper drinking and driving. She saw me call the police!

The Soundcloud rapper charged me!

She grappled my mouth.

I ran away from her.

Age: 22 years

My father retired.

I graduated from university with an undergraduate degree in music.

I have to start paying back my student loan for university.

I think my neighbor may be distributing marijuana.

Age: 22 years

My father retired.

I graduated from university with an undergraduate degree in music.

I have to start paying back my student loan for university.

I think my neighbor may be distributing marijuana.

I applied to medical school but my application was rejected.

I applied to graduate school and was accepted.

My parents refused to pay my graduate school tuition.

My application for a scholarship to graduate school was rejected.

I took out a student loan to pay for my graduate school tuition.

I started graduate school.

Age: 23 years

I refused to skip school with my classmate, Prija.

Age: 24 years

My little brother, Takeshi, started lower secondary school.

I completed graduate school.

I have to start paying back my student loan for graduate school.

I got an interview at The City of Tokyo for their Archaeologist opening.

I was hired for the position of Archaeologist for The City of Tokyo with a salary of $28,704.

Age: 25 years

Religious feuds fester between Spain and Cuba.

I decided to have a one night stand with Haruma Nakajima.

I practiced safe sex.

Age: 26 years

My little brother, Rento, started lower secondary school.

I have been given a raise of 4.8%. My salary is now $30,074.

I refused to join social media.

I called Satoru the life of the party.

I made love to Satoru.

I'm pregnant with Satoru's baby!

Satoru did not feel like making love to me.

I called Satoru enlightened.

Age: 27 years

My little brother, Takeshi, started upper secondary school.

The City of Tokyo promoted me to Sr. Archaeologist with a salary of $36,231.

A woman approached me and told me if my forehead was any bigger it would be a "fivehead".

I gave birth to a baby girl! I named her Sayaka Bloom.

Satoru argued with me because I didn't use his surname for the baby. I promised him I wouldn't do it again.

Satoru broke up with me. I called him a lamebrain.

Age: 28 years

I've been thinking a lot lately about whose computer I would hack into if I could choose just one person.

I was feeling very tired one afternoon, so I drank a lot of water to rehydrate my body.

Age: 29 years

My little brother, Rento, started upper secondary

My little brother, Rento, started upper secondary school.

I finally got a new pair of running shoes.

I chose to vaccinate my daughter, Sayaka.

Age: 30 years

My little brother, Takeshi, graduated from upper secondary school.

While walking downtown, I noticed some creepy old guys checking me out with binoculars from an office in a nearby building.

My daughter, Sayaka, wrote on the walls with a permanent marker. I had a heart-to-heart talk with her about her behavior.

Age: 31 years

My little brother, Takeshi, enlisted in the Navy.

I fully paid off my student loan for university.

My baby daddy, Satoru, sent me a pic of a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a condom. I forwarded it to all of my friends.

Age: 32 years

My little brother, Takeshi, has fathered a girl named Reina Bloom. My little brother, Takeshi, has been promoted to Seaman Apprentice.

My little brother, Rento, graduated from upper secondary school.

My parents tried to arrange a marriage between me and a Japanese guy named Takumi Takeuchi.

I agreed to marry him.

I married Takumi Takeuchi.

Following the wedding, I decided to keep my last name, Bloom.

Takumi decided to keep his name.

Age: 33 years

My daughter, Sayaka, started elementary school.

My little brother, Takeshi, married Haruka Yamashita, a 26-year old restaurant worker.

My little brother, Rento, started a new position as Receptionist for Peacock Systems.

I fully paid off my student loan for graduate school.

I spent some time relaxing by enjoying a sunrise.

Takumi didn't want to have a conversation with me.

I liked every photo that my baby daddy, Satoru, has ever posted on Instagram.

He confronted me! He begged me to leave him alone.

I made a fake Snapchat account and followed my ex-fling, Haruma.

Age: 34 years

My little brother, Takeshi, has been promoted to Seaman.

I found a satchel full of cocaine. I turned it in.

I texted my baby daddy, Satoru, to ask him for a pair of his dirty underwear.

He confronted me! He begged me to leave him alone.

Takumi does not want to have a threesome.

I berated Takumi for not wanting to have a threesome.

I prowled the streets.

I stole a Toyota RAV4!

Age: 35 years

My daughter, Sayaka, loves riding around in my Toyota RAV4.

I secretly kept a large diamond I found while working at an excavation site.

Age: 36 years

My little brother, Takeshi, and his wife, Haruka, had a baby boy named Soma Bloom. My little brother, Takeshi, has been promoted to Petty Officer Third Class.

My mother has retired from the Army.

I took Takumi to the theater to see "Who's Inside Me?".

Age: 37 years

My little brother, Takeshi, and his wife, Haruka, had a baby boy named Yusei Bloom.

My little brother, Rento, moved out.

I somehow managed to kill a desktop cactus.

I was released from my job as Sr. Archaeologist for The City of Tokyo.

I called my supervisor a douchelord on my way out.

Age: 38 years

My niece, Reina, started elementary school.

My little brother, Takeshi, has been promoted to Petty Officer Second Class.

Takumi and I had a threesome with Gabriela Miura.

Takumi left me for Gabriela Miura.

The judge made me pay Takumi Takeuchi $17,247 to settle the divorce.

I had dark thoughts.

I electrocuted my ex's husband, Yuki, by throwing a toaster into his bath! He died.

I had dark thoughts.

I electrocuted my ex, Takumi, by throwing a toaster into his bath! He died.

I had dark thoughts.

I electrocuted my ex, Gabriela, by throwing a toaster into her bath! She died.

I had dark thoughts.

I electrocuted my ex, Haruma, by throwing a toaster into his bath! He died.

I had dark thoughts.

I hit my ex, Satoru, over his head with a stick that I found! He died.

I have been convicted of murder and sentenced to death by hanging!

They sent me to Tokyo Federal Penitentiary, a maximum security prison.

I hired Honda & Associates to appeal my sentence.

My sentence was overturned!

I have been freed from prison.

I had eyelid surgery performed by Dr. Taiga Yamazaki.

I had a nose job performed by Dr. Taiga Yamazaki.

I decided to have a one night stand with Manato Tanaka.

I practiced safe sex.

Age: 39 years

My daughter, Sayaka, started lower secondary school.

A friend of my friend offered to set me up with a job as Jr. Marine Biologist for Mr. Falcon.

I was hired for the position of Jr. Marine Biologist for Mr. Falcon with a salary of $21,226.

Age: 40 years

My little brother, Takeshi, and his wife, Haruka, had a baby boy named Yuma Bloom. My little brother, Takeshi, has been promoted to Petty Officer First Class.

I said no to anabolic steroids.

Age: 41 years

I have been given a raise of 10.4%. My salary is now $23,425.

I looked at some butts.

I pickpocketed an old geezer! He had $56 in his wallet.

I decided to have a one night stand with Haruki Harada.

I changed my mind since there was no condom available.

I told my daughter, Sayaka, that she's the bee's knees.

I asked Keisuke Kobayashi on a date and he rejected me.

I am now dating Shinsuke Ikeda.

Age: 42 years

My daughter, Sayaka, started upper secondary school.

My nephew, Soma, started elementary school.

My little brother, Takeshi, has been promoted to Chief Petty Officer.

Mr. Falcon promoted me to Marine Biologist with a salary of $33,324.

My boyfriend, Shinsuke, likes to drive my Toyota RAV4 even more than I do.

Age: 43 years

My nephew, Yusei, started elementary school.

Itook guitar lessons and learned how to play "Freebird" by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

I called Shinsuke fascinating.

Shinsuke and I made love.

I'm pregnant with Shinsuke's baby!

I made a fake Facebook account and friend requested my ex-fling, Manato.

Age: 44 years

My niece, Reina, started lower secondary school.

My little brother, Takeshi, has been promoted to Senior Chief Petty Officer.

I have been given a raise of 6.6%. My salary is now $35,523.

My father died of complications from old age.

I paid my respects at his funeral.

I gave birth to a baby boy! I named him Riku Ikeda.

[seeyouonsaturn]

YEAAHHHHHHH MUSIC TIME !!! go my feline 🫵

🪩 - A song my fictional other and I would love to dance to together!

🎧 - A song my fictional other would listen to while thinking about me— preferably while staring wistfully out of a car window, like in a cliche music video!

🎸 - A song from my fictional other’s favorite genre of music!

🎫 - A song by an artist my fictional other and I would like to go see perform live together!

ask game

Oh heck yessss is for ME!! Song time!! =^-^=

Also hehe look I got a motorcycle divider

🪩 A song my fictional other and I would love to dance to together!

I absolutely definitely can not dance, at all, even slightly. However, given the size difference, Prowl could hold me in his arms like one might hold a cat and slow dance with me that way. I think that would fix me actually.

I just went through our playlist to find a song that'd be good to slow dance like that to, and there was a surprisingly small selection. I need to find more. But here's what I got! Don't ask me to pick one.

Reneé Dominique, Jason Mraz – Could I Love You Any More

Boys Like Girls – Two Is Better Than One

HSM3 – Can I Have This Dance

13 year old me's music taste is shining through with that last one

Also, while it's incredibly rare to witness, Prowl does have some really good dance moves. Wipe the floor with the competition type good. You've seen him use his ninja moves, you know he can dance if he wants to. He's friends with Jazz after all. They trained together. Prowl can keep up with Jazz and even pose a challenge. He's not about to let anyone find out about this though. Primus, Bee would never leave him alone if he knew.

🎧 A song my fictional other would listen to while thinking about me— preferably while staring wistfully out of a car window, like in a cliche music video!

The mental image of Prowl staring out of a car window is sending me. Whose window is it. Why is he in there.

Anyway, this was really difficult to answer. I have a ton of songs that evoke this in me, but I really don't have many songs about me. Because, well, he's the one listening to those, not me. But how about

Coldplay – Yellow

Sleeping at Last – Two

And the latter is mainly because it's My song. It's even named for me. What else would anyone possibly be thinking about while it plays.

🎸 A song from my fictional other’s favorite genre of music!

Prowl isn't all that much of a music guy tbh. He prefers silence, ideally with birds singing instead of music playing. But I can see him being into soft instrumental type songs that can play in the background without disturbing his meditation.

Yiruma – River Flows In You has been on my Prowl playlist ever since I was 13. Even back then I just decided it's Prowl Coded and put it on there, so I'm going with that one for this!

🎫 A song by an artist my fictional other and I would like to go see perform live together!

Hmm, I've only been to a concert once in my life when I was maybe 14/15, and while it was alright, it was most definitely not the type of music Prowl would enjoy. And honestly, I don't think I'd be having a lot of fun either if I went now. Too loud and too many people.

BUT. In a nice outdoor setting without too big of a crowd, I think we'd both love Sleeping at Last. Yes I am mentioning it twice. Absolutely one of my favorite bands, and also the artists of Saturn, which is the Prowl song to me and the inspiration for this blog's url (I know I've mentioned that before, but I will never pass up a chance to bring up Saturn).