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shera-dnd · 3 years

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And we are back, this time with some wonderful backstory for our favorite cat.

Also featuring Ozpin being his usual weird self and Adam being a cunt

AND ANGST

so all the things we love here

The night was dark and the rain was loud. An army could march around this human village, and would have been none the wiser. But the fae didn’t need an army to wipe them out, all they needed was a single woman with just enough hurt to compel the world to act.

The Black Cat emerged from the nearby woods. Her mission was clear in her mind, and her pain fresh in her heart. Silently she stalked through the night and circled the human village.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

With each full circle she recited the crimes of their people. The true names of those they had killed, the forests they burned, the villages they destroyed. And with each circle the shadows grew longer and darkness grew deeper. Threatening to engulf the village entirely.

It was when she had finished the third circle that she saw him. A man standing alone in the pouring rain, his smell both impossibly old and incredibly young. The man raised his cane, and The Black Cat flinched as she saw the glint of metal, but it soon became clear that it was made of silver, not iron. Then he brought his cane down.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

And the shadows receded.

Though the Cat was certain that her magic still hid her from sight, the man looked into her eyes and addressed her directly.

“I was hoping to have a chat with one of your kind,” he spoke, more calmly than she liked.

Perhaps it was curiosity, perhaps it was a need to assert her power over the strange human, but something spurred the Cat to emerge from the shadows. She stood up now on her hind legs, easily towering over the man.

“You’re rather bold, human,” she snarled.

“Just an old man who knows a thing or two about magic,” he answered.

She had heard about people like him. Humans who had learned the secrets of magic. “A wizard then? And you think your magic can protect this village?”

“I am hoping it will not come to that,” his tone was as calm as ever even as he stood within mawling range of the large fae.

“Again, very bold for a human,” she commented.

He smiled at that.

“Now, tell me,” he began, “why exactly are you turning your ire towards these people?”

The Cat growled, “they’re too close!”

“And yet, for each tree cut down, a new one is planted. For each animal hunted, their bones are buried in the woods. When a circle of mushrooms is found, we step around them,” he explained, and the cat could tell that his voice matched his smell more than his face, “we shun iron, and abide by the ancient ways. Surely, this is the sort of cohabitation that could not possibly offend our fae neighbors?”

His words touched the tiniest ember of hope that still hid in her heart. It was the most insignificant remnant of her life before she became unseelie, and for a moment it sparked with life. The Cat was quick to bury it under a mountain of contempt.

“The unseelie do not seek cohabitation,” she countered, “you’re too close!”

“Can we not convince you to change your mind?” The man asked, unwilling to let go of hope.

“You cannot atone for humanity’s sins,” she snarled.

The man let out a tired sigh, and for a moment looked so old she was convinced he would crumble to dust before her.

“Humanity is divided, my friend,” he argued, though that statement seemed to hurt him to say, “you’ve clearly met those who arm themselves in iron and march into your woods, I’m sure. Now you’ve met those like us. Are we not as different from one another as your courts?”

That quiets her. Though he was human, he echoed the words of a fae she had abandoned long ago. Another black cat whose strength of body was matched only by his strength of heart.

“You’ve been chatting with me far too long for a true member of the unseelie courts,” he commented.

She growled and bared her teeth at him.

“My apologies,” he replied, hand raised in surrender, “it was simply an observation.”

“I’ve made my choice!” She shouted, “I do not intend to change my mind.”

That caught his attention, “so you chose to walk the path of the unseelie.”

She should kill him. Slit his throat. Bite his head off. Poison him, and leave him to die, it didn’t really matter how. He was human -a threat - she should return him to nature then and there. But something about that felt wrong. Something in her still truly wanted to believe what he had to say.

So instead she answered, “yes.”

“And yet, you have your doubts,” he said, clearly seeing the conflict within her, “please, listen to them, listen to what your heart has to say.”

She hesitated, unsure of the path she should take.

“Why do you seek this alliance with our kind?” She asked.

“Because that is the right thing to do,” he spoke with true faith, and conviction behind every word. It felt strange and familiar all the same.

Once more his words rang true, and once more she felt those embers ignite.

“I would like to make a statement, in the near future,” he continued to explain himself, “of hope and goodwill, and of harmony with the natural world. I do not rule this kingdom, but its lords value my insight, and have agreed that perhaps it is time...that a fae joined our ranks.”

“Join you?” Her words didn’t sound like mockery, as much as she wanted them to, “am I to be your diplomat? Your Servant? Or perhaps there is some heir of yours you’ll have me marry.”

“No, no. Goodness, nothing of the sorts,” he answered with a hearty chuckle, “if you’ll allow me to explain. Our four kingdoms are guarded by four sacred orders of knights, each led by a witch who grants us small boons of magic when the times allow. Though their primary function is to commune with our vacant divines.”

“So you want a fae to take that role? A faery witch for an order of human knights?”

“That would maybe be too bold for my colleagues’ tastes,” he replied, “but there is an empty seat in the Order of the Fall Maiden, and we would be honored to have one of yours fill it.”

She studied him for a moment, pondering his words. Something about the man still unsettled her, something that made him…not fully human. She couldn’t quite tell what that something was, but it unsettled her.

“Am I to be your appointed knight?” She asked, quietly now, like the embers that were burning would snuff out if she spoke any louder.

“You are the one they call The Black Cat, yes? Blake, I believe was the name,” he asked, the name he offered was wrong, and he knew that, was he offering her a courtesy? “Well, I think you may be more than qualified for the role.”

Years ago ‘Blake’ would have taken that offer without a second thought. To be the bridge between her people and the humans, to usher in an era of peace and cooperation between their people, it would be the greatest honor. But too many years, too many scars made sure she couldn’t just trust their kind like that.

“And why would I accept your offer?” She demanded.

“We can grant you a boon,” he answered, “and the Fall Witch already has one in mind for you.”

Blake raised an eyebrow and the man smirked.

“We can make you immune to iron.”

~~~

That night Blake ran through hidden trails, and down non-existent paths. She leaped from shadow to shadow, through roots and branches, until she reached the one place humanity had never, and would never, touch. She was back home, with the unseelie, though she didn’t approach her people just yet.

She stalked at the edges of their home, looking for the one man she wished to speak to. Thankfully he was - as always - the center of attention, boasting about the blow they were about to strike against humanity, and how his lover would be the one to deliver it.

Huh, that word had never bothered her before now.

Getting his attention on the other hand was a bit harder, but she asked the wind to whisper his name for her. Though he did not stop his speech immediately, he at least seemed to notice her presence. Thankfully his boasting did not last much longer and soon he walked up to meet her.

“My love,” he greeted, full of pride, “by the smell of human on you, I take it your mission has gone perfectly.”

Taurus.

Her love.

A great blind bull, with fur as red as blood, his body scarred from iron brandings. He was the rage of the fae given form, the epitome of everything the unseelie believed. But right now, Blake had to hope he would be her lover first.

“The villagers still live, my love,” she replied, shrinking in shame.

“What!?” Anger flashed in his voice, but he soothed it quickly, “I mean...did something go wrong?”

“Not exactly,” Blake answered. Explaining things to Taurus would be a delicate process, she had to choose her words carefully, “the night answered my call at first, but the villagers…they had a wizard with them.”

He huffed at that word, “if he as much as touched you with his filthy human magic tricks I swear on the moon and stars I’ll--!”

“He didn’t!” She interrupted, trying to keep his rage from rising once again, “he only used his magic to stop mine. He didn’t want to fight me, he just wanted to talk.”

“The human wanted to talk?” He scoffed.

“Yes!” She insisted.

“Tell me you did not allow the human to poison you with his words,” his tone turned demeaning, in a way it did far too often in these recent months.

“He did not poison me!” She bit back, her own fury flaring at his condescension, “we spoke and he made me an offer.”

“How bold of him,” he mocked.

“Will you at least listen to what he had to say!?” Blake snapped, tired of his derision, “he offered me a chance to help stop an all out war between our people!”

“And you believed him?” He accused, “don’t you see what that means? They fear us, beloved. They know they cannot stop us if we go to war, so they try to trick us instead.”

“This is no trick, my love,” she insisted, “we can finally have peace.”

“I do not want peace!” Taurus shouted, “you think I will accept anything less than retribution? You think I will rest until I have my revenge?”

When had her love become so self centered?

It was as if a glamour had begun to crack in front of her, and she did not like what hid behind it.

“What about the rest of us? Are we not allowed to choose peace!?” She countered.

“My love, don’t you understand?” He asked, voice turning sickly sweet, “the humans are just trying to divide us. They know how strong we are, and they know they don’t stand a chance if we fight together. Their peace is nothing but a deception meant to weaken us.”

“But love--”

“See?” He interrupted, moving closer and gently holding her in his arms, “If they can make us argue like this, can you imagine how easily they would split our people?”

She pushed him away and growled, “you think me some child who can be swayed by some treats? You think I let those humans live because some old man with a fancy cane dangled a boon in front of me?”

That made him quiet down for a moment, and she had hoped he had seen reason, but she had no such luck.

“What boon?”

“He promised to take away our only weakness,” Blake answered, “make me immune to the touch of iron.”

And so Taurus laughed, “you believed that?”

“Yes!” She roared back, “and it’s my choice to offer him my trust. I did not come here to ask for your permission. I came here to let you know I would be leaving.”

“What!? You’re just gonna leave me like that? Gonna choose some human lie over your people? Over us!?” He accused, hand reaching to grab her.

Her tail whipped and poisonous thorns scratched at his skin. Her toxin would not kill him, but it still caused him terrible pain.

“If this is truly about us. If you really do love me, then say my name, Taurus!” Blake demanded. His name that had once tasted like love in her lips, now tasted of rage, and bitterness, it was an accusation, and a challenge. Show me that you love me, or leave me forever!

And so Taurus made the biggest mistake he’d ever made.

He hesitated, and that told her all she had to know.

He would never see her again.

#rwby #blake belladonna #medieval au #fanfic

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libermachinae · 4 years

Text

Schematics [Or, Another Chance] – Ch. 1, Crash

Also available on AO3! Summary: Written for @prowlweek! They’ve been construction workers, engineers, soldiers, lab rats, a giant berserker fueled by rage. Time travel bounty hunters is a first for them, sure, but they’ve handled worse, and with the opportunity to get back into Prowl’s graces, they’re down to try pretty much anything.

Notes: Prowlastator time travel AU was an item on the brainstorming list that I was simultaneously excited about and assumed would never get written. Then, Prowl Week was announced, which was a perfect excuse to force myself to do the thing.

⏳ 🚧 🚓 ⌛ 🏗 🚧 ⏳

Prowl wanted them.

He’d called them, and when none had answered because they’d all been deep in recovery stasis, he’d left a message. Short, to the point, crisp with a tone they all recognized immediately:

Send confirmation upon receipt. Meet at the following coordinates.

Mixmaster swore that somewhere down in stasis dreams, he’d been aware of the moment Prowl had reached out, had felt his spark spin and dance in celebration of its prodigal companion. Long Haul tried to argue that he’d never heard the word dream before they’d been stuck under cover with the humans for all those months, and Bonecrusher had stepped in to defend him. As his teammates squabbled together in the cramped hospital room and Scavenger pretended to still be offline, Hook sent their reply. A single ping, message acknowledged. He wanted badly to ask how Prowl was, tell him the team was excited and ready for whatever he needed from them, but the right words weren’t coming. Besides, Prowl would appreciate the simplicity.

They left that night. Had they any stock in what the doctors or human (ew) repair crews had to say, they would have been there several more days, but Prowl’s assessment was the one that mattered. They could get out of their beds, sneak out of the hospital, and transform into a conga line of construction vehicles driving down the road: they were well enough for whatever he asked of them.

Hook led the way, maneuvering them through the hospital parking garage, into alleys, and around the many construction sites flooding the area around where Cybertronians had made landfall. The team had been knocked offline during their battle with Victorion (that was a rematch to look forward to), so all they knew was that a final, final battle had taken place and someone had dragged them to Earth, where they’d been labeled as ‘victims to Starscream’s self-important delusions’ and tossed in with the rest of the bots who’d ended up mangled, crushed, and torn by the death throes of their planet. Keeping their distance, they saw Cybertronians and humans working alongside one another, building plans for a future in which the two species were able to live side by side. Scavenger even thought it was ‘sweet.’

They never spared it more than a glance, though; Prowl was waiting.

The coordinates took them far from the development, across fields that forced Hook, Bonecrusher, and Long Haul to switch to root mode so their tires didn’t get sucked into the mud, and through forests that snagged their kibble and occasionally required they disentangle each other. Night passed, their path lit by a moon that was little more than a hunk of dead rock, and by day they still wore on, anticipation fueling each step like rough high grade. They reached the mouth of the cave just as the sun reached its crescendo, pushing deep into the darkness below.

They jumped. Mid-air, they strained their optics, searching for their sixth.

There. There he was! Standing just out of the spotlight of the roof, Prowl was almost invisible in the darkness: he’d painted over his white paint with a dark shade of gray, and his biolights had all be covered to make him more believable as an Earth vehicle. His single blue optic was unmistakable, though, both for its color and the way it stared at them, harsh but unreadable, as each member of the team landed in front of him. Dust rose from around their feet and the cave shivered with the impact, and he did not blink, though his gaze shifted to each in turn.

Hook felt his spark trip and wondered if this might be the feeling Mixmaster had been trying to describe.

It was really their Prowl. They were together again.

Hook ran forward, feeling more than hearing the team as they converged around him. Maybe Prowl tried to say something, and maybe they should have responded, but no words came to Hook that would have meant as much as actions. Besides, it would have been too hard to hear as five, then six, t-cogs activated.

There wasn’t even time to savor it. One moment Hook was rolling forward, sliding through his vehicle mode and into Devastator’s component, and then he attempted to connect to Long Haul and everything fell apart.

Pain burned a terrible arc through Hook’s body and he wrenched away from the connection, collapsing onto the floor as his addled processor tried to understand what it had just undergone. The rest of the team crashed down around him, a ragged pile of robots, vehicles, and limbs with Prowl in the center, just starting to sit up. He cradled his helm in one hand, but the glare of his optic pierced through his fingers, targeting Hook and welding him to the spot. Even without the direct connection, Hook’s spark felt the disapproval.

“W-what happened?” Scavenger asked, pushing himself up from where he’d been pinned under Bonecrusher’s blade. The more senior team member transformed and placed a hand on his shoulder, though he too looked to Hook and Prowl for answers.

Hook had none. In their time as a combiner, he had picked up a few tricks they could use to diagnose and bypass glitches, little things here and there that could hold the mesh together until someone more qualified could solve the root of the problem. He’d never been prepared for anything like this, the sting of rejection still flowing through his body and making it hard to perform the usual systems checks he would have had going by now.

“You’re broken,” Prowl said, turning to Bonecrusher. Hook was both grateful and regretful to lose his attention. “Long Haul,” he turned to the one stuck halfway between robot and dump truck, “I received almost no feedback from you. Either your combination circuits have been turned in on themselves, or they’re missing entirely. I suspect the rest of you have similar injuries.”

“Well, what’s it going to take to get us fixed?” Long Haul demanded as he righted himeslf, defensive for having had his own poor repair called out.

“Many things we don’t have,” Prowl said, “least of all expertise. The one mech who fully understands how your bodies work is currently in custody.”

Shockwave was still alive? News to Hook, not that he really cared. He was dealing with more present concerns.

“We can’t combine?” He said it like a question, but it didn’t feel like one.

“No,” Prowl said, “which is perfectly acceptable. I have you how I want you.”

The team perked up, even Mixmaster sitting up from where he’d been lounging on the ground.

“What’s that mean?” Bonecrusher asked.

“The mission I’ve called you here for requires finesse, a clear mind, and ability to stay focused,” Prowl said. “Multiple field runs have now proven that, while combined, I am not capable of such to a degree that is acceptable for any logical hope of success. So, it is to our benefit that we cannot combine.”

“You… don’t want to form Devastator anymore?” Scavenger asked. Bonecrusher’s hand on his shoulder stilled.

“That’s not what he said,” Long Haul snapped, though his optics darted back to Prowl.

“You’re right, Long Haul,” Prowl said, “though you would understand why it’s a complicated question. I…”

Hook leaned in with the rest of his team. He’d so looked forward to being in Prowl’s head again, watching the calculations run down, branches and paths unimaginable to them flowing open at Prowl’s touch. If they couldn’t get that, hearing his thoughts would be the next best thing.

He grimaced, though, and the change in his tone when he started again indicated that whatever he’d meant to say next was going to stay locked away.

“I need you for this mission,” he said instead. “You are the only mechs I can trust with it, and I know you will not take that responsibility lightly. It’s because we have combined that I can give you this confidence.”

“Course, Prowl,” Mixmaster said.

“You can trust us with anything,” Scavenger added.

Prowl’s doorwings twitched up. Hook still wished he knew what that meant, and the familiarity of the feeling was what finally reminded him that Prowl was back. Regardless of Devastator, of whatever mission they were about to embark on, that thought stood out in his mind, and he crawled forward so he could touch Prowl’s shoulder, dip his fingers into that fresh gray paint.

“Anything,” he echoed. “We’re here for you.” He would promise nothing he didn’t know he could deliver.

The others followed, enclosing their loose circle around Prowl, who startled at each touch, his gaze whipping around. He stood, dislodging every curious hand, and in the glare of the roof looked like a messiah among his followers. Hook, directly in front of him, squinted up, able to make out only the silhouette of a pointed chevron and doorwings, fanned wide.

“I know,” Prowl said. He stepped over Mixmaster and out of their circle, unfolding from the light and molding himself back into the darkness, where he was once more reduced to a single glowing optic.

“The same way I know that when I tell you this information is top secret,” he went on, “you will know never to reveal it to anyone.”

“We won’t say a thing,” Hook said, standing. The others joined in, echoing Hook’s sentiments as the group rose up, but Prowl’s attention stayed on him. Hook felt the look like it was a blunt object, plunging into his spark, and he accepted the force, embraced it, returning it without any idea of its purposes. He did not look away, not because he was intent on winning whatever game they’d entered into, but because he didn’t know what would happen if he did.

“I know,” Prowl repeated. Hook’s optics, adjusting again to the gloom, were just able to make out the motion he made with one hand.

Follow.

They did.

Prowl led them away from the light, further into the darkness of the cavern. Tucked into one wall was what looked like a terminal amassed with sticky organic matter that threaded together, creating windows that acted as a screen when Prowl powered it on. The team stopped a few steps shy, peering up into uncanny views, except Mixmaster, who strode forward to poke at the vestigial threads hanging off the side.

“This is a time machine.”

Prowl dropped the statement like a bag of bolts. Mixmaster stopped what he was doing to look up at their head. Scavenger jolted.

“You built a time machine?” he asked, awe tilting his helm up and guiding him another step closer, angling to watch Prowl work.

“No. An old… Someone else did,” Prowl said.

“Mesothulas?” Mixmaster guessed.

Hook cringed. Bonecrusher had come across the name accidentally the last time they had combined, but they’d all had to work together to assemble the story, each member offering a scrap of information until something resembling a narrative emerged. Hook had assumed their silent agreement not to mention it to Prowl was enough.

“Not relevant,” Prowl said, proving that it was possible to know a mech’s deepest secrets and still not know how to parse a particular tone of voice. More transparent was the way he reached out and pushed Mixmaster’s curious hands away from the terminal. “I have secured it and assumed full control over the technology. Before I was able to intervene, however, another individual commandeered it with the intention to interrupt our current timeline. Had he been successful, the results would have been catastrophic.”

“So, someone already stopped him?” Hook asked.

“More likely, he just failed,” Prowl said. “Temporal modification is complicated, and without proper training it’s likely he just got himself stuck in a loop somewhere. Still, so long as he remains at large in the timestream, he poses a risk toward spaciotemporal stability. Our mission is to follow him through time and apprehend him, so he can be brought back to Earth to face charges.”

“Against what? Time law?” Scavenger asked.

“Misuse of potentially deadly technology,” Prowl said. “I helped write the bill.”

Hook still wasn’t sure about tone, but that definitely sounded like something approaching pride.

“So, no killing?” Bonecrusher asked.

“No.”

“Damn.”

“No killing, Bonecrusher,” Prowl said. His postured sharpened and he turned to lock optics on the mech, who shrunk back as if to hide behind Long Haul. “If you cannot follow this or any other directive I give you, tell me now, so I can dismiss you and assemble a new task force.”

“It just depends,” Hook said, trying to and finding himself unfortunately successful at drawing Prowl’s attention away. “Is it Spike Witwicky? Or Starscream?” Yeah, yeah, they’d heard the reports, but only someone as gullible as Scoop (who had started inconsolable, turned incoherent when Bonecrusher threatened to punch him back to Cybertron) would believe that fragger would have any interest in staying dead.

“No,” Prowl said, “though that your loyalty is conditional brings down our chance of success by upwards of 20%.”

“No, no, it’s just those two,” Hook insisted, looking to the others.

“You know how it is around that lousy sack of bolts,” Long Haul said, defensive though his tone tried to be accusatory.

“But you say don’t kill, we won’t kill,” Mixmaster added. He took hold of Bonecrusher’s elbow and guided him back in view.

“Yeah,” Bonecrusher said, looking up at Prowl though he so clearly didn’t want to. “Trust us.”

Prowl’s optic stuck to him, then scanned over each member of the team in turn. When Hook felt the gaze fall on him, he did his best to return it without looking like he was trying to challenge Prowl. He wanted to rise to whatever was being asked of him, and no higher.

“I have safeguards in place to hold you to that,” Prowl said, breaking optic contact at last to address the group at large. “I trust that you will not force me to use them.”

Hook nodded with the rest of the team. He knew a threat when he heard it, even a vague one, and he didn’t mind it when it came from Prowl. It was how he got things done, produced results, and with that being one of the many reasons they had come to respect him as their newfound leader, how could they fault him for his methods? A means to an end, that was all Prowl’s precautions were, and Hook was much more invested in the end.

“Once we have captured the target, he will be returned to the present day,” Prowl continued. “He is to be kept in adequate repair, relative to whatever state we find him in. There is a chance he will try to escape, in which case you are permitted to use an appropriate level of non-lethal force.”

“When do we find out who it is, anyway?” Long Haul asked. His voice was almost neutral, but there was a tightness to it that belied his impatience.

“When the information becomes mission-relevant,” Prowl said.

“Hrmph.”

So, it was back to same old, secrets keeping, potentially backstabbing, always plotting Prowl. Still opaque, still keeping his allies in the dark about his unfurling plans and invisible strategies. Hook’s brakes relaxed, letting his wheels rock on their axels. It really was the mech they’d all pulled into their sparks, not the ‘reformed’ glitch everyone in the hospital had been gossiping about.

“Sounds good boss,” he said, shoving at Long Haul with his elbow. He caught a glare for it, but the annoyed growl of the dump truck’s engine quieted to a hum, which was good enough. “When do we start?”

“Now.” Prowl’s fingers flew across the terminal keyboard. “The machine keeps a log of all the points it accesses. Unfortunately, it looks like our suspect had help, as several were logged simultaneously; I assume the intention was to prevent us from finding the correct coordinates. To conduct our search, we’ll have to travel to each one manually.”

“Sounds simple,” Mixmaster said.

“It does,” Prowl agreed, which of course meant, It’s not. “Construction of the machine was halted prematurely. It lacks a mechanism to ancho it to the present, which means there is nothing present within the system to guide an individual back once they’ve passed through.”

“What?” Scavenger yelped, stepping back like Prowl had burst into flame. “You mean we’ll be stuck out there?”

“Of course not,” Prowl said. “Why do you think I called on you?”

“You need Devastator?” Bonecrusher guessed.

“We’re a team?” Mixmaster added.

“We already discussed that, Bonecrusher,” Prowl said. He ignored Mixmaster altogether. “Gestalt coding. For better or worse, our sparks are drawn to each other, and the simulations I’ve run suggest that the pull can be felt through the timestream, as well. One mech will stay here, to act as the anchor. When it’s time to come back, the rest of the team should be able to get back relying on that.”

“Not it!”

Attention turned to Long Haul, who was beaming in pride of his quick reflexes. Prowl stopped typing just long enough to turn a glare on him.

“Not—”

“You’ll be taking turns,” Prowl said, interrupting Scavenger. “We have to come back each time to input the new coordinates. We’ll switch off then.”

Had Scrapper been the one in charge, first, they wouldn’t have been attempting anything like this. Second, Long Haul’s brazen declaration would have made him the first to sit out. Instead, Prowl resumed typing, more focused on the intricacies of the time machine than chastising his team for minor infractions. Hook still leveled a disapproving glance at Long Haul, who shrugged it off.

“Preparations are complete,” Prowl announced, turning his back on the terminal to once more address the team. “Bonecrusher will be the anchor for the first run. The rest of you, follow me.”

He led them deeper into the cave, into a pocket the light had almost no hope of reaching. Here, what looked like an empty doorframe stretched far above their heads, visible only by the energy that had started to crackle around its edges as the time machine came online. Pinkish, orangey light spiraled inward, coming to a point at the center of the frame. It looked so familiar to Hook that had it not been for Prowl’s explanation, he would have assumed it was a spacebridge.

“I will lead the way. You will each follow, two seconds behind the person in front of you,” Prowl instructed. “First Hook, then Scavenger, Long Haul, and Mixmaster. The moment you step through this gate, you are to do nothing without my explicit order. If I don’t tell you to walk, you stay still. If your life is in danger, you wait until my go ahead to save yourself. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Hook said, in unison with the rest of the team.

Prowl looked each one over. He nodded.

“Turn off your comms now,” he said. “We don’t need to risk leaving a signal behind someone might trace. Are there any questions?”

Hook had several, but since none were strictly relevant to the mission, he figured it would be best to hold on for now.

“Very well,” Prowl said. “Hook, follow my steps exactly. Once you reach the end, you are to wait for my signal before you exit the timestream.” A last sweep of the team, and it struck Hook that he didn’t know what Prowl was looking for.

He must have found it, whatever it was, because he turned his back on them and stepped through. They saw his silhouette for just a moment before it was swallowed whole by the light.

Hook stared at the space that had once been Prowl.

“…two-on-thousand,” he heard Bonecrusher murmur.

Well, he could take a hint when it was given. Hook chanced a glance back at the others before he stepped in, not that he really needed to. All he saw were the faces of his team, and they were familiar to him as his own spark. It was up ahead that was unknown, fascinating, slightly dangerous, so Hook strode forward into the light, following wherever it was Prowl led.

#maccadam #prowl week #prowlastator #prowl #constructicons #transformers #my writing #longfic #schematics #crash

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wellhalesbells · 7 years

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help I just finished the raven cycle. now what??

i mean, firstly, mourn. i cannot stress the importance of this step enough. take the time to sob and rage and fall apart about the fact that you have finished this series that is just head and shoulders above nearly every other. because that did happen and it does blow. i suggest a lot of laying on the floor or under your bed, eating tacos, and being generally despondent. also if you feel the need to wear black for a year or keep your curtains drawn 24/7, well, that’s totally acceptable.

once that’s done, we’re ready to reenter the literary world! probably, and ish. to help ease the transition, i would suggest trying to pinpoint what you most loved from that series and then working from there. was it the fantasy elements, the characters, the lgbt-ness, the young adult-ness or just the straight-up pretty writing? here are a few things that might help fill the void (though do recognize that none will be perfect and, factually, your life is just emptier now):

FANTASY

[admittedly, i do not have a lot of fantasy on my shelves because i need long breaks between for that genre, but here are a few of my more recent reads]

the scorpio races - going from maggie to maggie is never a bad idea. i will concede that it took me way longer to get into this one than it did the raven cycle, but i did eventually get there and the characters were heaps more established (and rational) than what’s usually on offer in a YA read!

the grisha trilogy - okay, so i really got into this because it has such a well-drawn villain. meaning: he’s fucking gray, like all good villains should be. you can sympathize with him and i was surprised to find that i cared what happened to him, not just to our hero. the story and characters were also really great. and if you want to jump off this trilogy into the six of crows duology (LGBT+), my only advice would be: don’t let your expectations get too high. unfortunately, i went in expecting it to be the raven cycle’s equivalent and, for me, it did not have that same depth. good, for sure, but on trc’s level? not so much, in my opinion, and i wish i’d known not to expect that going in because i feel like i would’ve enjoyed it more if i had.

the dream-quest of vellitt boe - lovecraft with laaaaadies.

3-DIMENSIONAL CHARACTERS

mosquitoland - this book can be a little hard at times but, woooow, did i fall in love with mim. this had just the right amounts of humor and heart for me.

station eleven -considering this jumps timelines and characters, it’s monumentally impressive that you can feel such a connection to and investment in everyone’s stories.

LGBT+

simon vs the homo sapiens agenda - this is cuuuuuuute and i just love everyone and want the absolute best for them because they so deserve it and it shook out just how i wanted it to.

a place called winter - this is another one that’s hard, but worth it, i think. it’s a sweeping story, spanning decades and continents and hammering in the historical hardships that came from being any letter on the lgbt+ spectrum during the pioneer era.

the watchmaker of filigree street - historical fiction, in general, is pretty much a turn-off for me because it’s dense and overly drawn a lot of the time (i get it, it’s the 1800s, can we shut up about the details every three seconds please, UGH). but if there were ever a book that was going to turn me completely around on that, it would be this one because WOW, YES.

flying lessons and other stories - a slew of sexually and racially diverse stories from some truly brilliant authors!

aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe - ohhhhh it’s pretty. and soft. and full of love and fear and understanding. it hurts my heart with how tender it is. [weeps]

idyll threats - you know how there are five million ‘cop/sheriff/detective in a small town’ mystery series that just go on and on forever and never end? WELL NOW WE HAVE ONE FOR THE LBGT COMMUNITY. the second book just came out last month and i want everyone to support these if you can; i want there to be so many i can’t count the number on my fingers and toes anymore, i want thomas lynch to be a friggin’ household name, i want a terrible movie franchise and an awkwardly posed poster on my wall, okay? I WANT THIS TO BE A THING PLEASE.

YOUNG ADULT

the illuminae files - these books are dope. they’re engaging not only story-wise but also visually, the text forms images, the fire fights are chaotic smashings of words, the space walks are delicate tight-ropes of sentences and then, on top of that, the characters and the twists and turns of the story? oh my BUH-GOD. this series is breath-takingly good and so freaking smart, okay? it just is. IT IS.

i’ll meet you there - i liked every single detail of this book and they’re all… still there. i read this quite a bit ago and i remember so much of it. i don’t remember what i had for lunch an hour ago but i remember this book. so. that’s pretty cool.

the merciless - all right, all right, all right, i have to qualify this. because i was not a fan of the ending. maybe you will be, i don’t know, i - personally - was not. BUT everything leading up to that ending? yeah huh! it was some good-ass suspense. as of right now, i’ve only read the first book of this series but… i think i am going to keep going with it. it’s hard to get me to squirm but this book managed it and i think i have to chase that, right?

WRITING

the secret history (LGBT+ minor character) - i said i would never recommend this book to people (it is long. and dense. and depressing) but, lookit, that turned out to be a fucking lie. it feels historical even though it’s contemporary and it is such a complete story? i mean, i know this story, i know these characters, i was thrust into those pages. and i loved it. if you need your characters to be likable though? NOT the book for you, haha.

autopsy (LGBT+) - i read a fair amount of poetry these days. i like very little poetry. this? this i liked a crap-ton. donte collins is a friggin’ wordsmith, man.

the princess saves herself in this one - another poetry book i enjoyed! i really love watching skilled people play with language, what can i say?

we were liars - okay, so, this is another odd one for me to recommend because… i did not like it. like, at all. i mean, i did like it a lot, and then the ending came and obliterated any positive thoughts i’d had about it (because i feel like it breaks the contract with the reader and that makes things just… not cool imo, but whatever). HOWEVER i did find the writing really, really lovely. it has a gorgeous, soothing flow to it. and, again, some people may really like the ending and, in that case, this would be a super great book for you because the writing is really simple but nice, y’know?

american housewife - an awesome book of awesome short stories written very awesomely!

i’ll give you the sun (LGBT+) - the writing in this makes me want to fall to my knees with how good it is. i just can’t. i could go on and on for days. it feels like it’s something that should’ve taken centuries to craft because it is so lovingly put together and it just–it makes you feel all the feels, okay.

everything i never told you (LGBT+ minor characters) - i like this book so much more in retrospect. but it does the adult fiction thing that every fucking adult fiction book does and that made me so mad at the time. but, beyond that, it’s a unique and well-told story!

things we lost in the fire - my favorite horror book i’ve read in a good long while. mariana enriquez is a master at building up a creepy atmosphere. it’s not gore and guts as much as it is a mounting sense of doom that’s entirely constructed through words and imagery that are so damn well-crafted. really hoping for more english translations of her work because she is just so skilled a writer.

middlesex (LGBT+) - this took me a while to read because it is the very full history of three different generations of stephanides between those covers but, wow, is it well-written. it’s moving and deep and winding and detailed and fucking worthwhile.

#.1 < .5k #the raven cycle #the grishaverse #six of crows #the secret history #middlesex #things we lost in the fire #everything i never told you #i'll give you the sun #the merciless #we were liars #the princess saves herself in this one #i'll meet you there #the illuminae files #simon vs the homo sapiens agenda #the watchmaker of filigree street #aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe #the scorpio races #station eleven #mosquitoland #flying lessons and other stories #idyll threats #a place called winter #i want you to know that it actually did not take me *this* long to answer #i already wrote this out *once* and tumblr. fucking. ate. it.#i was sooooo pissed that i put this off again #sorry for my utter lameness #but i think we can all agree... it's really tumblr's fault #hope this helps though nonster (belated though it is)!#!ask

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