#bug prowl is life

[ditheringtouhoufan]

He is SO CUTE AAAAAA

more of that bug.

[revelboo]

Omg the way you wrote that last Prowl one was *chef's kisses* The hate between Prowl and the reader scratches an itch deep inside my soul (it's the enemies to friends to lovers itch)

Oh, I do love that trope!

Stand Too Close Pt 2

Prowl x Reader- timeout

• “Are you even listening to me?” He demands as you make a show of yawning at him from your perch on his desk. Right before you just walk right across the screen of his data pad, ruining hours worth of work with little human foot prints. Gritting his denta, he very briefly entertains the idea of slinging the data pad across the room just for the sheer satisfaction of breaking something, because as he’s been told, you’re his responsibility and far too tiny to reprimand.

• “Not really,” you say just because you know how much it bugs him and sure enough those little door wings lift up, almost vibrating in outrage. Because he can’t do anything about you and he knows it. He also knows you know it. So offering him an empty, fake smile, you crouch to doodle a stick figure Prowl and scribble ‘blah, blah, blah’ around its head on his data pad screen. When he seizes the pad, you fall on your butt. Blinking as he slings it like a frisbee to smash into the wall and just looms over you, big hands in trembling fists as he glares. He can’t touch you. He can’t. “You can’t touch me.” Your voice wavers, though because he’s angrier than you’ve seen him. Maybe you’d pushed a bit too hard in your quest to make sure you’re ruining his life as much as he’s ruined yours.

• “Is that so?” He snarls, seizing you in his servos around your waist. It’s only your sharp, fearful gasp that makes him ease up his grip as he lifts you to optic level. Not so brave now. Your eyes are wide as you stare at him in very real alarm, for once silent. And he just stares back, because he has no idea what to do with you now. Putting the fear of Primus into your awful, little heart sounded like a good idea, but he’s not sure how exactly to do that. Can’t hurt you- he’s not allowed. “You’re in time out,” he finally growls, opening a drawer on his desk and carefully lowering you inside. He closes it almost all the way, leaving enough of a crack you can breathe. And just savors your shocked silence. Because he won.

• For all of five seconds. For such a tiny thing, you have impressive lungs on you, screaming human profanity at him. Mostly telling him to go interface with himself as you bang around in the drawer. You’re miserable, though and that’s a victory. Even if he now has to listen to your cursing, he smirks and steeples his servos. Maybe that’s the key to dealing with you, make you so miserable you beg Prime to give you to anyone else. Let you annoy someone else, be someone else’s problem. It’s what he wants, so why does the thought bother him just a bit?

Previous Next

[numberonetribble]

A smile tugged at the corner of Megatron mouth and a deep laugh came from the former warlord, "All the audacity of a Decepticon and all the spark of an Autobot! You truly are your Creator's sparkling Little Bug!"

"SHUT UP!" Piston's hands trembled, they'd never held a weapon before and didn't realize how heavy it could be.

My Earthspark Part 2 and 2.5 comic! Thank you so much everybody for your patience, I hope you liked it! I'm also happy to finally announce, Piston's secret ability: Sonic Scream! Thoughts in the undercut!

Hello! I am here to contact you about your car's extended warranty!

Q/A Time! (I won't answer everything hehehehe if I don't say here feel free to send me an ask!)

Q: What just happened?!

A: One night while Piston was hanging out at the air strip, a Cybertronian ship crash lands. They don't know it's Prowl's ship. Piston is growing up around mechs who talk about the war, they see all these videos, and their major take away? If you want something, act quickly. Example: "The mighty Megatron has fallen! I, STARSCREAM am the new leader of the Decepticons!"

Piston is an easily impressionable child. They don't understand nuance. Piston's plan is quite simple, they're going to force Optimus and Megatron to go get that ship so their family can go back to Cybertron.

Piston can change their optic colors, (need to look the part) and hand weapons are plentiful you just need to know where Sire hides them in the house. This shouldn't be too hard, Starscream challenged Megatron all the time and he's fine. Plus, Megatron likes Piston! Optimus? Optimus not so much. In retrospective that Starscream poster was a bad idea huh? :)

(AIM. HIGH. Baby. Hold the weapon HIGHER!!!!)

Q: Why did Piston's optics change back to yellow for a second??

A: When Piston was born, Bumblebee installed a Parental Lock to prevent Piston from triggering their Combat Mode. He wanted them to have an as normal childhood as they could. He planned to tell them about it once their age matched their frame size. I headcannon that new Cybertronian's don't have control over their defense systems until their older. Normally this isn't a problem for sparklings as their don't have their weapons yet, by the time they do, they have control over it. (Please imagine small sparklings with their battle masks covering their faces and extra armor active when upset) Piston does not have control over it and their have their Stinger.

How this lock works is whenever Piston experiences intense negative emotions, anger, fear, guilt, etc, the frame's natural defenses want to deploy, but can't. Piston locks up and freezes instead. The Parental Lock will reset Piston back to a neutral state. Hence the yellow optics.

Piston does not know about this lock as Piston is a naturally happy Sparkling. Breakdown does not know Piston has this either. On a rare occasion, he's seen Piston get really upset, freeze, and then act like nothing happened. He thought it was weird but Piston seems fine so it's probably fine???

When Megatron reaches for Piston, THAT'S when the Combat Mode is triggered and Piston freezes.

The only way for this lock to come off is if Bumblebee takes it off, OR in extreme dire circumstances. IE; the frame takes on too much damage and it's life threatening. The system requires a moment to reset. This is why Piston freezes when Nova Storm catches them in the woods. Bumblebee finds them in the middle of a reset and doesn't allow it to come off.

Here, Megatron ripped off Piston's wings. Bumblebee is too shocked to remember the lock. When Piston hears him agree with Optimus, enough is enough. Baby is experiencing rage for the first time in their life.

Honestly I didn't intended for Part Two to have a 2.5 but I didn't want to leave it on a cliff hanger. Here is where I had to cut myself off as it could've gone on forever. The paper sketches are from January 16th I did during my breaks at work, (consistent art style? don't know her) The tube started off as a joke to fill in plot holes but that is my emotional support tube now. Bumblebee never gets to hold his baby!

Thank you so much for all the kind words of encouragement and I apologize for taking so long! There is going to be a part 3 and 4 but I won't be announcing those, they'll just appear, but not for awhile because I want to see Piston happy!!!!!!!

[beemochi-art]

Hello beemochi I hope everything going well.

2Q about Prowl and Jazz.

1Q, how are transformers born in your au? Does it have something to do with their Sparks (merging and creating a new life form)? Or is it more physically intimate? (No need to describe if it is intimate)

2Q, since Prowl was built and came online, he didn't have parents like Jazz did, correct? Who did Prowl consider as parents or family other than Jazz.

( my tf au there are several other ways that are complicated and sometimes brutal but we aren’t talking about that rn.)

1) For Forte-verse it’s simpler, there are two ways to get Sparklings, spark merging and through a allspark well. Spark merging is a form of physical intimacy. Interfacing is the cybertronian equivalent to.. well you know. ( honestly sex isn’t important to the shenanigans of forte-verse, if I do end up bringing it up it’s probably to make crude jokes.) not only does merging sometimes result in a sparkling but also two bots being Sparkmates. Interfacing isn’t required to have a sparkling but couples will do it while spark merging cause, hey why not.

Allspark Wells will create sparks that will eventually form into newsparks who will then make the journey out of the well and into cybertronian society, finding their own clan, guardians and families. That’s how it used to work at least. As cybertronians evolved they found more efficient methods of making bots for specific purposes. Companies would take ownership of wells and harvest newly made sparks. Then they could be put into development chambers to faster form into new sparks, the companies could manufacture their looks and upload what they are meant to do right out of the chamber. ( I liked this concept so much that it also applies in my other au but I go more into all that junk there too.) Of course they still need to develop on their own a bit into fully fledged adults and some skills would still need to be taught.

2) You are correct, Prowl has no parents. Unfortunately how he was made didn’t make it easy to find any either. It’s normal for new sparks to imprint and want to be close with older cybertronians, however the supervisors that would watch Prowl’s group were very mean and aggressive, they had no interest whatsoever in caring for new sparks, only training them because it was only their job. This would lead Prowl to trying to work extra hard to impress the older bots (never worked.) Prowl never got to view anyone as a parental guardian.

However Prowl did get very close to a couple of bots from his line. Smokescreen and Bluestreak are like family to him, they all grew up together. Smoky acts as the older brother type, though he doesn’t watch Prowl and Blue like a hawk like he used to, Smoky is much more comfortable now letting Prowl take the lead. He’s a big laid back teddy bear but has mastered to art of intimidation, all Praxins have.

( Fun fact: Prowl’s line are referred to as Praxins because the company they from is called Praxus.) Blue is the baby sister for sure, she’s a grumpy bug eyed weirdo but she’s just paranoid. She wants to make sure her family is being treated right, Blue can tell when they are getting taken advantage of. Even tho she is grumpy and kind of gloomy she isn’t super serious like Prowl and is a bit of a social butterfly.

Prowl is pretty independent and a loner but when Blue and Smoky are around he can’t help but hover and fuss over the two.

[ablobwhowrites]

I have returned with more memes

Difference between Vehicon m/n and SG Vehicon m/n

tfa bot m/n daily life

When Vehicon m/n got a hold of rachet syntactic energon

Vehicon m/n with he Decepticons

Tfa m/n after dealing with Blitzwing trying to kidnap him for the 7th time

Vehicon m/n is tired of everyone cause he is not able to get a normal amount of sleep cause of these fucking nightmares.

SG vehcion m/n listens to heavy death metal also very day.

Tfa y/n: "oh it humans can't be that bad"

*meltdown being able to use his acid to melt bulkheads servo and being able to almost kill sari's dad*

Tfa y/n: "WHAT THE FU-"

I like to think tfa y/n just sneaking in a small cat that they like to keep and the base but prowl ended up finding out but never told anyone and helps y/n keep the cat as secret. (Sari also found out but also keeps it a secret as long as she gets to play with the cat)

Synthetic energon filled m/n basically got him tweaking cause bro is basically disappearing from the autobots sights so easily and basically filled with basically the version of ratchet on this synthetic energon but bro is just filled with rage and mostly like taking the pure essence of caffeine that m/n took and now he is basically climbing the walls like spiderman (it's like those cats in movies, like when they get scared they cling onto the ceiling basically)

M/n is having a joyous time when he is on the nemesis sometimes. (He still is scared of arachnid though and the Insecticons cause like dude you wanna fight large ass bugs that screech when they fly at you. Not m/n thats for sure.)

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Home

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 1

Prompt: Snowfall

Rated: M

Tags: Kas!Eddie; Dark Eddie; Mind control; Possessive Eddie; Obsessive behaviour; Brainwashing; Nudity; Implied sexual content; Implied dubcon (in that Steve isn't able to consent or refuse)

Notes: Set in the same universe as Break it first.

“Snow.” 

Kas stirs from his thoughts and blinks at the boy in his arms. Steve’s head is still resting on his chest, that warm, naked body still slotted firmly into his, but he isn’t asleep anymore. Instead, his eyes are trained on the window.

Kas frowns and follows his unblinking gaze. The sky outside is the same as always. Red as blood, with bursts of lightning streaking through the rolling storm clouds. Dust is hanging in the air in thick flakes, maybe disturbed by one of the creatures prowling about. Backlit from behind by the flickering light, it looks white. Pretty, almost.

“Snow,” Steve says again. 

Kas wrinkles his brow, twisting a strand of chestnut hair around his finger. “How d’you know that word, sweet thing?” 

Steve doesn’t reply, which is unsurprising. His words have been coming back sluggishly. A consequence that Kas factored in and expected, after the near complete wipe he did of the boy’s mind. He’s fine with that. Steve doesn’t need many words besides Kas and please and more. Sure doesn’t need any memories of before. Only needs to know who he belongs to now. 

Which is why him remembering that word is … disconcerting. It must’ve been hiding well. Somewhere deep within, in some far recess of his mind, probably tied to some fond memory or feeling of his past life. 

And they just can’t have that, can they?

“Guess I’ll have to take a look, darling,” he sighs, taking Steve’s face in both hands to pull him closer. Steve whimpers but doesn’t fight back, burying his face in the crook of his neck as Kas touches their foreheads together and burrows in.

He doesn’t need to look long. The memory shines like a little firefly against the smooth, blank backdrop that he’s been so careful to craft his boy’s mind into. Just like a firefly, it’s too stupid and slow to escape as he swoops in and grabs it. He turns it this way and that to examine it, and it flutters and thrums feebly in his hold.

Thick, white buds of cotton floating down from a cloudy sky, the cold bite of snow against warm skin. 

A gaggle of kids, shrieking with laughter, feebly hurling their own snowballs back at him. 

The curtain of snow behind a window, brilliant and white against the dark backdrop of the night. 

A mug of hot chocolate in his hands and a head on his shoulder. Cold feet poking his ankles under a woolen blanket and a freckled girl smiling up at him.

Home. 

Kas bares his teeth and snarls. 

The memory struggles in his tightening grip, like a bug attempting to wiggle its way out from under a descending boot. It's trying to get away, trying to skitter its way back into whatever hole it's been lurking in, but he won't let it. 

You let one little pest crawl back where it came from, and you'll have a massive plague on your hands before long. 

The little firefly gives one last, frantic thrum as he crushes it in his grip, and then it snuffs out. In his arms, Steve lets out a tiny sob. Kas makes a soft shushing sound, rocking him and kissing his hair until he quietens down and the tension bleeds from his shoulders.

“It's okay, sweet thing,” he whispers. “It's okay, I got you.” 

Outside, the dust is still dancing in front of the window. Steve spends a long while staring at it, nose scrunched adorably, lips moving like he's trying and failing to grasp at the word that was there a few seconds ago and is gone now. Finally, he sighs in frustration, head sagging heavily against Kas's chest. 

“It's alright, honey,” Kas promises, slipping his fingers into his hair and smiling when Steve’s lids flutter shut. They always make him sleepy, these little check-ups on his mind. “It won't bother you anymore, I got rid of it for you. Sleep now, you're safe. You're with me.” 

Steve blinks up at him, eyes already cloudy and struggling to stay open. 

“Home?” he whispers. Kas feels his face twitch into a large, delighted grin. 

“That's exactly right, my sweet,” he says, reveling in the hesitant ghost of a smile that tugs at Steve’s mouth. “You're home. And I won't ever let anything take you from me again.” 

He wraps Steve back into his arms, wiping the last stray tears from his face and kissing his forehead to smooth out the wrinkle between his brows. Steve sighs into the crook of his neck and melts into his touch, breathing slowly evening out. 

“Home,” he mutters, just as he drifts off. 

Kas smiles to himself and pets his hair, watching the slowly settling dust outside the window. 

More holiday drabbles

He thinks that's a word he'll allow his boy to keep. 

[theprenderelliepalace]

Damon Salvatore x fem!reader

Perception

Summary: Y/N drops some books off at the Salvatore residence, she expects to find trouble, being the odd one out and everything, she doesn't expect his name to be Damon Salvatore.

Warnings: For mature Audiences, themes of assault, drunk Damon (well isn't that new? Said no one ever.), uh, does a 'takes no shit' !reader count as a trigger?, Elena being a mysterious plot point

Words: 1.7k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I watched Elena Gilbert make this weird expression at me... Caroline was saying something stupid, Bonnie was arguing with that judgemental gleam in her hazel eyes, but what caught my attention, was that foreboding purse of Elena's lips. The furrow of her flawless brow, the way her eyes sparked with something that scared me. It was almost hidden, she smiled wryly in my direction. Her eyes like daggers that penetrated my skull, it made me shiver; as I felt like I had been stripped bare of anything that belonged to me in that moment. Any ground or loyalty I had in our friend-group, I knew was gone, with the flick of Elena's hair behind her shoulder- my other friends hadn't even realised yet, but they would. Come morning I would be a stranger, even to my closest friends since kindergarten. I would be on the fringe of everything I used to know.

I was 12 when I stopped hanging out with the most popular girls in Mystic Falls. Strangley, I never regretted that day. What I had seen in my closest friend, that unexplainable glint about her that still gave me nightmares, had opened my eyes to something dark in the shitty little town I'd spent my entire life in. I said I'd never regretted that day, that was until the vampires came...

~~~~~

"Yes Care, i will be there before dark." I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing the annoying voice on the other end of the line to go bother someone else. "No, I did not tell Stefan." I responded dryly. Elena was in danger, yet again. Klaus was on the prowl, for the daggers, for Elena's blood, for all of us... And Caroline was bugging me about my communication skills. "Well seeing as I'm dropping these old spellbooks for Bonnie at the boarding house, I figure, 'Hey, why not kill two vampires with one study session from hell." I groaned internally as Caroline got heated over the phone. I slammed the back door to my dad's old Toyota corolla, opening the drivers side and collapsing into the leather seat. "Then take it up with someone who cares Caroline. Sorry, I'm driving through a tunnel, on an airplane, while hanging up the phone."

I can't even remember what I did with my phone, all I know is that I started my engine and reversed out of my driveway, heading for the outskirts of the town and towards the infamous Salvatore residence.

It had been 4 goddamm years since I called those girls my friends. I had seen an entire 'nother leap year, in the time it took for these bitches to deem me useful. I travled with my mom, Rome, Paris, India, Africa. I would've gotten my high-school diploma six months ago, if I hadn't had to move back to this ancient cesspool of a town.

And don't misunderstand me, that is the time it took for my life to go to crap. Vampires, the Salvatore Brothers, Elena... I shuddered in my seat, clenching my hands around the wheel as I thought about her.

I was so lost in my thoughts, that I jumped when I reached the boarding house. It was tall and looming, with an ominous darkness catching the corner of my eye. I sighed as I parked, readying myself for the chaos of the two people I despised more than Mystic High's Queen Bee. You see, in the last 6 months I had discovered something about myself, I was perceptive. Yes, I have always been a little more aware than perhaps usual, but it was more than that. I was something supernatural, I didn't know what but I did know that I could see magic, hear a vampires nearly imperceptible heartbeat and feel the forces of nature that others couldn't even dream about.

It was strange, knowing you could see other people when they never expected to be seen at all. I could read their faces, know their tells, pick apart their lies. It was why I was suddenly on the Mystic Falls supernatural hit-teams most wanted list. I could see. I scoffed as I pulled the back door of my car open. Heaving the heavy books into my arms, shifing my weight into my lower back as I ambled up the porch steps to the front door. If all these people needed me for was my sight, then these assholes should really get their eyes checked.

The door was already open, I ducked in sideways, trying to keep my balance while toppling books inched out of my grip. "Let me take those off your hands." I audibly groaned, the voice that assaulted my ears was silky smooth, like fine wine pouring into my ears.

"Damon, look what the bat dragged in." I couldn't see him over the pile of scripts and dusty memoirs of old witches, but I could hear his stupid smirk as he took the pile away from me.

"Still as snarky as ever Y/N. Didn't your mummy ever teach you to be nice to charming men who carry your books?" Anyone else wouldn't have noticed the foe-disdain in his voice, or the slight quicking pace in his pulse, of course, I'm not anyone else.

"Oh! That's what the karate classes were for." I looked at him now, this tall,brooding, Greek God of a man was attracted to me. Stupid I know. That's what I thought too, but I've never been wrong. Especially not since I came into my powers. Normally I would take the shot, go for it, but I had no chance. He was in love with his brothers girlfriend, a stupider decision if you ask me.

"Glad I've only ever seen you in action once or twice then." He smirked. I walked past him and into the living room. The fire was roaring, as I often found it was when Damon was alone on a Thrusday through Sunday afternoon. Where he was the rest of the time, I hadn't had the stomach to ask. I laughed unconvincingly.

"Didn't I almost shoot you in the face when you first tried to use me as a human pincushion?" He set the books down with a thud on the ornate coffee table. I set mine down with a far greater deal of grace. He frowned at me.

"Details, details. Besides," He took a step towards me, he smelled like alcohol and something else..."the way to a vampire, is always through his heart." He grabbed my hand, gently at first, clinging onto it as I tried to pull away. He made me touch his chest, it was firm and rising jaggedly with air he didn't need.

I glared at him. "You're drunk. Go leech on something else," i paused "leech." He laughed, it sent shivers down my spine, his eyes were deadly and cold. He pulled me flush against him. I wasn't unused to this radical "Damon Behavior", but there was something wild about his eyes. Something needy. To be honest, maybe I was needy too.

"Someone should teach you manners little lady." Or maybe not. I timed it perfectly, jutting my elbow out from between us into his diaphragm, he caught my arm, blocking it and shifting my upper body to the right. His lips found my ear, his breath tickled as he whispered into my hair. "One day that mouth of yours will bite off more than those pretty little lips can chew.

"Someone should teach you the modern cure for the insufferable womanizer." I spat. Then suddenly- I was on the couch, the fire crackled so loudly in my ears I thought my head would explode. Damon was leaning over me. His ebony hair feathered against his forehead, his lips were inches from mine, our breath mingled into each other. I felt his body become hotter above me, it was almost startling compared to his cool demeanor at the door. "Damon, please. Use at least one brain cell to think about this stupid decision you're making-"

He cut me off, "See that's the thing Y/N, you talk to me with that foul little mouth of yours and think it's okay. No one talks to me like that." For the first time in an agonizing ten minutes he looked away from me. "I never let anyone talk to me like that. But its like this-" if we had been having this conversation like normal people, I would've smiled at the hint of Italian in his accent. "I do let you. You drive me crazy. I hate you for that."

I tensed. "Well people who hate each other don't treat one another like this. So one of us is lying." I don't know if I knew who was lying to themselves between the both of us, but maybe that would give me enough of a chance to distract him and then-

And then he was kissing me. It was deep and firey. He moaned against my lips as he parted them with his tongue, his grip around my waist tightened as he explored my mouth. It all happened so quickly, I barely began to understand what was happening before "I don't like lying Y/N."

What the hell was that?

He bolted away from me and was on the other side of the room so fast he was only a blur. He started to say something, probably to shout at me in his drunken stupor, but I was quicker- "Did you say that out-loud?" I asked, I was breathless and disgusted and fascinated all in the span of 5 seconds.

He made a face at me. "The hell, "did I say that?" He mocked my question,he was agitated, borderline disbelieving. "I was in the middle of kissing you, moron. I did not say that. What the hell did you do?" He held his arms close to his chest, obviously he felt as violated as I did. I scowled at him.

"Then, moron, did you think it?" He looked at me with big, blue, question- filled eyes.

"I-"

"Y/N?" Shit, Bonnie, i glanced to the door. I turned back to the fireplace and the leather-clad, bad boy vampire was gone. I pinched the bridge of my nose... worst timing ever Bonnie Bennet...

What the hell just happened?

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Ta-da! Ooo la, la... I'm a sucker (haha, get it?) for mystery and suspense.

Did you like the little nudge towards something Elena related, without having to deal with like, Elena..?

But chill, there will be a little bit of everything for all you shippers.

I don't know where I'm going to take this story yet, so feel free to Ask, or request or whatever and maybe things will turn in your favour... :0

Read pt 2 here: Read part 3 here:

Masterlist

[nightlyrequiem]

hiya requiem !!

okay sooh kinda stupid request BUTTT can i request something along the lines of running a rival cartel against Val .. then she finds you sellin on her block and she thinks ur jist mad stupid because like?? ( ・－・)

butttt then when she messes ya up and like kidnaps you or wtv you're like 'i sold here for your attention not for money' yaknow?? (∩_∩)

then we just have confuzzled Valeria, pining 😞

soz if this is too specific !!! as always thanks soso much in advance :3

-🃏🌀⭐️

Hiya Jester!!

I love this request. Writing a dumb little lovesick reader inconveniences Valeria just to get her attention is so fun.

No worries! I actually super love when requests are specific!

Ugh. I need her to beat the living daylights out of me like literally

Tags/Warnings: WLW, Mentions of Drugs, Mild Violence, Mostly Lighthearted Stuff

Attention Seeker

"What do you mean nobody is buying from you?" Valeria growls dangerously. Scowling at one of her dealers as he shifts uncomfortably, not wanting to be on the receiving end of her fury. 

"It's not just me." He says quickly. "The others are struggling for customers, there's another cartel that just popped up - real small though, practically just a gang." He continues quickly.

"Why is this the first time I'm hearing about it?" Valeria snaps. There's a threat to her business and nobody thought to tell her? "Who is running it?" She demands. When she gets her hands on them, she is going to skin them. The audacity they have to encroach in on her territory.

"... I'm not sure, some woman." He replies quietly, he seems to relax a bit now that Valeria has someone else to be mad at. That's usually how it goes. People playing hot potato with Valeria's anger.

The presence of competition explains why the market has been dry lately. She's going to find her and crush her like a bug. Watch her insides spill out. Valeria turns back to the man. Face twisted into it's usual dark scowl.

"How did you find out who it was?" she asks impatiently.

"Well... she was the one selling." He admits. "I asked her about it and she said she pulled together a few people to start up a 'business.'"

Valeria looks at him blankly. "You were face to face with this woman and didn't think to kill her." She says, astounded by this man's incompetence. "Or at the very least bring her to me. You just... walked away."

The man grimaces and avoids her gaze. "She was very friendly, and open with information I didn't know what to do." 

"Get out."

Valeria sits at her desk rigidly. Limbs stiff with anger. For weeks she's been losing money and she had no clue why. Just to find out it's because she's being upsold by some... friendly woman? "Oh, I just pulled together some people for a fun business adventure selling hard drugs in someone else's established territory, hee-hee." Nobody just randomly wakes up one day and decides to form a cartel. Nobody can just do that. It takes intelligence, and skill, and power. Valeria worked her ass and tits off to get to where she is, and this woman thinks she can just stroll in like life is sweet? Valeria clenches her fists and takes some deep breaths.

Three days later she's prowling the block you were spotted on. She got your description from that dealer and now she waits. Her men wait in a black, nondescript car nearby, waiting for her signal. People go about their days. Families out on strolls with their children, paying no mind to the armed men around them. This is their normal. Anything else would only disrupt things. There. She watches you stride out from an alley. Valeria would have never been able to tell that you sell drugs. Yet there you are, paper bags clutched in one hand. You don't even notice Valeria as you walk by. Moving with a purpose. Intent to sell.

Valeria follows after you. You're so dumb that you don't even look over your shoulder. That's when she grabs you. She slaps a hand over your mouth and roughly drags you away. You attempt to struggle but Valeria curls her lip into a sneer at how physically weak you are. The car squeals up next to the both of you and the door opens, a large man bags your head and hauls you inside. Slamming the door behind him.

Your vision is obscured to beige blurs as your shoved to the floor. It's hard and cold. A place that never sees the sun. You try to stand when you get kicked in the ribs, sending you sprawling. Air is pushed from your lungs in a painful gasp. Another sharp kick is delivered.

"Stop!" You wheeze.

The bag is pulled from your head, allowing you to see the room and your attacker. It's Valeria, who looks nothing short then pissed. "Who do you think you are?" She snarls. Her foot lands painfully in your stomach and your vision swims. She grabs you by the hair and roughly tilts your head back to look at her. "Do you think you're smart? trying to sell on my turf? Stupid bitch."

"Valeria." You mumble. Body relaxing at the sight of her. She's even prettier up close. High cheekbones, the beginnings of crow's feet, dark eyes. What a woman.

Valeria is taken aback by your expression. Her brows furrowing at your lack of fear.

"Why the hell are you looking at me like that?" She asks sharply. Do you not believe she's a threat? "You aren't going to be so happy when I beat the shit out of you, coño."

"I can't believe it." You gush, lips twisting into a wide grin. "You noticed me!" Your laugh is piercing and ecstatic. Valeria lets go of you and takes a step back.

"What are you talking about?" Her voice is laced with frustration. You sit up straighter and smile at her like she just handed you a million dollars.

"I'm so happy to finally meet you!" You say. "I admire you so much. You're so strong, I mean, I don't know of any other woman who does something like this. Running a cartel? And using a fake identity? God, you're brilliant!"

Valeria stares at you, not even sure how to respond. Should she hit you again? "Why were you selling on my territory?" She demands. "You think you can just take my money like that?"

"Oh no, I'm not doing this for money." You shake your head, voice full of disinterest. "I tried to find other ways of getting close to you, but your people are so unfriendly. I tried to join your cartel but they pulled a gun on me and told me to 'get the fuck out of here.'" You explain. Just casually dropping this information.

Hearing that you wanted to be close to her raises major alarm bells in her head. She unholsters her pistol and aims at it you threateningly.

"Why do you need to be closer to me?" she asks. "You a fed?"

You frown. "No. I just really admire your work."

"I don't understand."

She stiffens when you stand. "I want to be just like you." You say. Your eyes dart over her face, drinking in her features like well-aged wine. "I want to apart of your life."

Valeria understands there may just be something wrong with you. she lowers her gun but doesn't drop it. Still not fully convinced you aren't a threat.

"You came here and trespassed... to get my attention. You wanted me to seek you out." She reiterates flatly. "Just to make sure I'm understanding correctly."

You smile and nod. Glad she finally gets it.

"Exactly." You reply calmly.

Valeria isn't sure how she feels about that. You're strange and not well, clearly. But she's never had someone so interested in her that they'd put themselves in danger just to meet her. It makes her feel powerful. In control. "Is that it?" She asks boredly. "You just wanted my attention?"

"Yes."

"Well you got it." She says with annoyance. Rebolstering her gun. "If I catch you selling drugs again, I won't hesitate to put a bullet through your head, do you understand me?" Valeria gets in your face, trying to intimidate you. Instead, she just witnesses your pupils dilating.

"Sure." You nod, sounding breathless. Valeria doesn't know if it's because you were kicked in the ribs or something else. "Do you want to go on a date with me?" 

Valeria recoils, expression souring. "No." She says bluntly. Turning away from you. She'll have one of her men relocate you.

"Please?" You plead, sounding pathetic. "Just one date? There's this amazing restaurant and lounge on fifth, I'll pay."

"I'm not going out with you." she grunts. She still hasn't called in her men.

"Then can I work for you? I have a way with people, I can make you so much money as a dealer."

That offer certainly piques her interest. You have a point, she thinks. You're pretty and friendly and she can see that doing well with drug addled clients.

She puts a hand on her hip while she considers your hopeful expression. Valeria imagines what it would be like to have someone so infatuated with her working under her. she'd have your guaranteed loyalty. A part of her also likes the way it feels.

"Fine." She relents. "But if you fuck up even once, you're gone."

You smile happily. Looking like an idiot.

[honourablejester]

Blades in the Dark Character Concept: A Skittish Ex-Inspector Lurk

When in doubt, bug the fuck out.

So I was looking through the Lurk special abilities, and they have one called ‘The Devil’s Footsteps’, which allows you to push yourself to perform a near-superhuman feat of athletics, such as “climb a sheer surface that lacks good hand-holds, tumble safely out of a three-story fall, leap a shocking distance, etc”. And it occurred to me that this is absolutely the ability for when you need to get the fuck out of dodge now and need to jump out a window or hurdle a ten foot wall to do so. Also the ability to get in to places, yes, but my first thought was escape. So. A Lurk on a theme of running away?

So I want someone … paranoid. Skittish. Forever ready to run. And what makes you more paranoid than having been burned? Let down by someone who was supposed to have your back, by someone who was supposed to be better than that.

And it could have been just an old gang, an old friend, but looking at the factions in Doskvol. The reputations of the factions in Duskwall. The law. And the Bluecoats, of course, are corrupt as anything, a gang of thugs with a thin sheen of official legitimacy on top, but the Inspectors. The Inspectors are ‘famously incorruptible’. The Inspectors are above bribery, above corruption. The last bastion of uncorrupted justice. Supposedly, anyway.

And the Inspectors are also foreigners. Chosen specifically because they have no close ties to Duskwall. Presumably specifically to prevent corruption, preventing them from favouring friends and family and pursuing enemies. But it also means that they’re alone. The very mechanism that is meant to make them impartial in pursuit of justice also means that if that mechanism is turned on them, they have no safety net. They hold themselves aloof, depending only on each other, so if they are betrayed, from within, well. What can they do?

So if we had an ex-Inspector. One whose resignation was handed in for her, her death certificate signed and filed before she ever left the office that morning. A Lurk with a background of Law. And a heritage …

Things are complicated between Akoros and Iruvia at the moment (yes, I bought Deep Cuts, there’s some good stuff in there). Things are a bit strained, especially in Doskvol, whose Leviathan fleets are in direct competition with Iruvia’s. So it’s not surprising, really, that an Iruvian inspector might have an ‘accident’. The mood on the street is hostile, after all. All it takes is one crime scene in the wrong area, down the Docks, for example, and an unfortunate window of opportunity in which you were … unsupported. Very deliberately cut out and left alone by your colleagues.

But then, very annoyingly, you don’t die. You make it out by the skin of your teeth, very much not dead, and you try to go back and you realise that, oh. Your death certificate was signed and stamped before you went out. What now, darling? Where do you go from here?

To the streets. To the other side of the line. To the life of a Lurk.

Which. Friends and rivals. One of the Lurk’s potential friends is Petra. A city clerk. Because it’s ridiculous to expect someone to live in a city for years on end and make no friends. Even if they are only colleagues. So Petra received some paperwork telling her that her friend had been killed on the job, but that didn’t make sense because, well, her friend wasn’t dead. Was she? And she didn’t notice this in time to save our Lurk, not from the initial ‘accident’, but maybe she noticed in time to catch her battered, fresh-from-running-for-her-life friend before she went back to the Inspectors to try and report in. Because Petra is a really good friend like that.

So. Playbook is Lurk. Background is Law. Heritage is Iruvian. Special ability is The Devil’s Footsteps. Our friend is Petra. That leaves our action dots, rival, vice and purveyor.

For action dots, we get two in Prowl and one in Finesse from Lurk. For her background, we’ll give her one in Consort. Because she was an investigator, and again, ideal or no, you can’t expect someone to spend years in a place without making some contacts. For her heritage, we’ll give her a dot in Survey, as a foreigner specifically brought in to investigate crimes, she’s perforce gotten good at ‘spotting the telltale signs of trouble before it happens’. Then for the two free dots … I’m torn between three. An extra dot of Survey, an extra dot of Finesse, or a dot of Hunt. I feel like her paranoia would suggest Survey? Her need to get out of dodge would suggest Finesse. But her background as an investigator might suggest Hunt. And if she’s turned to work on a scoundrel crew, Hunt could be very handy. (It also gives her a combat option for ranged combat. Run away, shooting if necessary as you go). But … Okay. Let’s go Hunt and Survey. Out of paranoia. Heh. That’ll give her two in Prowl, two in Survey, one in Hunt, one in Finesse, and one in Consort.

Enemy … I mean. Darmot the Bluecoat is an option. Maybe he recognised her as a supposedly-dead Inspector, which could mean all sorts of trouble if that gets back to the Inspectors themselves. And maybe Darmot isn’t above trying to leverage that to his own benefit.

For vice … Odd choice, but I think I’ll go Weird. Because I suspect this betrayal has highlighted to our girl that civilisation is very much not safe, and so … perhaps she’s developed a bit of a fascination with the Deathlands. With a potential means of traversing the Deathlands. What if you could just ditch the city altogether? So lets have her purveyor be Sister Thorn, in Gaddoc Station, and her crew of Deathlands scavengers.

For her name, we’ll go with Farisa Kessarin. Iruvia is broadly Persian/Indian/Egyptian in inspiration, and Faris is a (masculine) Arabic name that apparently means ‘knight’ or ‘horseman’, which I’m fond of and fits well enough for both an ex-incorruptible force of justice and also someone ready to bug out at the drop of a hat. Her alias will be ‘Mist’, because she’s insubstantial, there and gone again. And her look …

She’s a small, slim, watchful woman, with a faint air of skittishness, who dresses with ruthless pragmatism in tough, fitted, flexible clothes that she can move in at a moment’s notice. She’s cynical, slightly paranoid, and deeply sceptical of any pretensions or reputation for virtue. She is always conscious of the potential for betrayal, even if she doesn’t actively expect it. She’s doing her best to lie low, to avoid the attentions of the Inspectors, but there is a certain temptation there, now that the blinders are off, to poke her nose into the deeper, more entrenched corruptions of the city. The ones that cannot be tackled from inside the law. She’s not going to be burned again, though. When all else fails, when in doubt, bug the fuck out.

Farisa ‘Mist’ Kessarin. A very skittish, paranoid Lurk. Heh.

[rungapikattohikattara]

have been scared of opening social media recently since I'm not sure about posting while I'm panic-getting into Warhammer 40k lore before graduation. But I did exchange one or two thoughts with people during tfcon LA about prowl's character across different continuities...The following is me ranting about outrageously obvious or random things - out of the opposite of boredom.

Although writers often portray him distinctively different, I try to view idw prowl as a single, coherent character, and I also seek continuity among him and other prowls as a whole(Maybe not tfa prowl, yet.) Cus I know his characterization in idw (mostly nr's and jro's) was highly impacted by Marvel UK. It's also highly possible that there was a whole secret crucible of character-understanding on UK side of the fandom that we're soon bout to find out once jro's documentation of 80s UK tf fanfic comes out me thinks. Aside from that it's just interesting to imagine prowl in other continuity having some relation with idw him(well the most popular feature is praxian orphan me thinks.) There's one fragment of prowl from wings universe featuring a squad of prowl clones&drones whose altmode are formula-1 cars that look like McLaren in the 90s (!!) Haven't read but from what I saw, Wing universe aimed to unify all the timelines and works into one continuity.

Which makes me think. Cus I have a relatively narrower perspective. 1, I didn't become tf fan as a child, nor did I grow up with these toys; 2, I'm approaching the ip from a fan-artist type of POV, which means what I create tends to be more of a fanart, not transformers art(???)(but what exactly is transformers art? thats's the problem;) 3, not familiar with related cultural context. It's very time-consuming to dig into all the fun (publications, who made wings comics..nvm) things happened in the past, such as marvel UK. But somehow when looking at it, the vague line between fanart fanart and transformers fanart bugs me a little too much. Maybe it's just a matter of personal taste - funny enough, I find it strangely challenging to wrap my head around.

Now I only wish I had thought about these before tfcon. at least I would have the motivation to, idk, lead a life...

[moonlight-tmd]

Unicron and Primus meeting Bee's Partners in the god sparkling au?

Been a while since i talked about this old thing-

Hmm well, I suppose i coulld pull together the very unstable story i've put together for this AU. But let's skip to the "Meet your in-laws" scenes, shall we?

ProwlBee!

The first time Prowl met Unis (Unicron) he was scared for his life cuz this guy was huge. Not to mention the danger aura invading his EM field whenever he was near. Bee has always felt like a little trouble magnet to him but this guy was that x1000. Unis on the other hand tries his best to not squish the black boring bug his beloved bitty chose as a mate- this guy doesn't even know how to tell a joke for frag's sake! How is he supposed to entertain his bitty when all the stuff he does is boring... Oh well, he supposes he makes Bee happy and safe, but if he ever makes his sweet supernova cry then he will regret it.

Prisma (Primus) was a whole lot different as you imagine- sure he was still big, maybe bigger than Unis, but unlike him he almost didn't feel threatening. There was something about him that made everyone calm down. Prowl was quite happy that this one actually likes him and even shares few of his interests. Prisma was also happy that his bitlet found someone who can take care of him and make him happy. Although it might have hurt him a tiny bit seeing how similar Prowl and Bee are to him and Unis... he'l keep an eye out just in case something goes wrong.

ShockBee!

When Bee introduced Longarm to Unis there was this awkward moment of just them staring at one another. Bee couldn't tell what's wrong but Longarm was momentarily trapped in his own hell- He stood before the God of Chaos himself and could do nothing as the disguise he had faded away before he snapped back to reality with Bee and Unis. Longarm generally avoids Bee's Papa, he believes he doesn't like him... and he does! Unis knows perfectly what "Longarm" is and does and, despite loving the thrill of danger and betrayal, he DOES NOT like that he is his bitlet's mate. There's so much things that could go wrong and he is not willing to risk anything and have Bee cry because of this double-agent. He makes sure to let him know he's not welcome and hopefully breaks up with Bee.

Prisma was not that different. Longarm felt the same imposing aura and saw his image just like he did with Unis, and it effectively made him doubt all his life choices. Prisma also doesn't like that this mech is full of lies and betrayal, he may not be as direct as Unis but he does give him the cold shoulder. Also he and Unis finally agreed on something together, hooray!

BlitzBee!

Unis almost decapitated Blitz the first time he saw him- Blitz jumped Bee and picked him up, Unis attacked thinking Bee was in danger. Fortunatelly Bee stopped him before anything bad could happen- Blitz, upon knowing that the mech who nearly killed him is Bee's dad... well, he definitely kept himself in line around both. Although not for long as Unis rather quickly took a liking to him- he called him a freak in an affectionate way (?) and seemed to enjoy his company. Unis liked the way Blitzwing was; he was fun, unstable and very strong- perfect recipe for chaos! He was happy for Bee to have found himself someone so good to mate with.

Prisma tho, wasn't as impressed as Unis but he still was accepting. Although in a way one would accept someone disabled or with defects. The first time they were ever left alone Prisma told him he went thru so much and that he will make sure the ones who hurt him will pay the price of doing so. Blitzwing was confused but he didn't say anything. He didn't complain, both of Bee's parents seemed to approve of their relationship. Although it would've been nice if Unis didn't slip and reveal them to the others before they could come up with a plan to do so...

[velvetwyrme]

i beg (bug) of thee . .. more borrower au pleaze.

now you might be wanting more of the existing dynamic/s ive mentioned but @dubia-015 asked me about the other character concepts i hd in mind yesterday and then i sat down and went AHHHHHH into the void and it rewarded me with even more thoughts

yapping under the cut

please consider Ratchet thinking that the tiny person he helped out when he was still in medical school was a fever dream (too much coffee, not enough sleep). Only to get blindsided when a different tiny person shows up one day, loud and obnoxious but clearly worried about his friend who is injured, begging for Ratchet's help. And well, Ratchet doesn't know what to with the fact that Drift is REAL, but he DOES know what to do if someones bleeding out.

Or the flipside of that, Drift returning to his old house that he nearly died in, and finding out that the tiny man who helped him during that time is REAL and not a drug induced hallucination. If you want to get extra tasty with it, Drift almost stabs Ratchet, the blade THUNKING down in front of the borrower as Drift glares down at him. He wasn't even been looking, he just knew Ratchet was there. But as soon as Drift sees him his eyes widen and soften, as recognition finds him and he whispers... "Ratch?"

(I imagine he IMMEDIATELY panics and pulls the blade out because OH GOD HE NEARLY KILLED RATCHET) and can you tell i really want to draw this but also i really dont want to draw People.

And some other concepts!!

Borrower Brainstorm trying to one up human Perceptor while also trying to not be caught. He wants to be NOTICED and RECOGNIZED but he's meant to keep hidden but Perceptor is so brilliant he NEEDS to prove himself.

Human Whirl and his two tiny partners who he tries to scare off,,, or alternatively, Tailgate and Cyclonus and the borrower that they're luring into their home like a stray cat.

Borrower Skids pining fruitlessly over human Nautica!! Roommateless Swerve having a little borrower buddy in his walls who listens to him ramble. I can't decide who but my silly rarepair brain immediately went ULTRA MAGNUS because i have a soft spot for Swagnus hdjdhdjfbjd

And of course you can't forget tired veteran OP who has been passing messages with a mysterious stranger in the library who writes the most beautiful poetry and has a fresh new perspective on life, albeit one that is jaded, hardened by a life of being underfoot, downtrodden and struggling to survive day to do,,,,, like. Ghhhrghg.

im gonna fucking explode so you also get more thoughts abt the various versions ft the Constructicons, J/P and SW

Also if you go borrower!Soundwave and Prowl (Human Constructicons+Jazz) then you get the two of them working together somewhat begrudgingly at first- they have a working respect for each other that gives way to mutual appreciation for each other's logical prowess and intelligence, things that are required when trying to navigate a house filled w/ 5 rowdy guys. In that same version you have Rumble, Frenzy and their like. 8 dads. Since they're human, it's easier for the other humans to wrangle them but Soundwave and Prowl are the real powerhouses there who keep everyone in line.

In the one where the Constructicons are menacing J/P, they all slowly befriend Jazz first, who stays well out of the way of Prowl's investigations- he could tell him, but... this is the most fun he's seen Prowl have in a long time and it looks good on him. Also getting doted on by the pack of borrowers is a nice perk.

i literally cannot create fast enough to keep up w this. Also logically if I did anything I'd. probably cut down the amt of characters so I don't have to deak w/ as many interconnecting pieces but IN MY HEART OF HEARTS THIS IS THE DREAM

[revelboo]

reader: *engaging in asshole cat behavior to piss of prowl*

prowl:

Pretty much 🤣

Stand Too Close Pt 7

IDW Prowl x Reader

• Why are you like this? For some reason he can’t understand, you’ve taken it into your little mind to deliberately try to antagonize him or provoke him. It makes him almost miss the days when you just ignored him or sulked in a corner. Freezing when you decide that you absolutely need to sprawl across the back of his hand on your belly so you can draw crude, inappropriate little pictures on his report to Optimus. “Find somewhere else to be,” he growls, tipping his hand to dump you off. Aware of the slide of your little, warm body against him as you straighten and glare up at him.

• Whatever that was between you had been electric, scandalous and exciting. And your personal enemy is now going out of his way to not touch you ever since. Actually trying to avoid you like he hadn’t been the one to get handsy and pin you down. Like your current frustration isn’t entirely his fault. Blowing out a breath from your spot where he’d dumped you, there’s no figuring him out. What you do know? Something has to give. Ever since realizing big and unpleasant can get closer to your size and that he might just have a freaky side? That’s the only place your brain wants to go. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I kidnap you and ruin your life?”

• Door wings lifting stiffly, he glares as you stand up and lean a hip against his knuckles, insisting on touching him again. Arms crossed while you raise your eyebrows at him in challenge. He knows you’re baiting him, but he still grits his denta. “You ran out in front of me, remember?” He growls, struggling with that smug look on your face that makes him itch to do something about it. Remembering shocking you speechless when he pinned you for all of a handful of seconds before you got even angrier. Remembers exactly what that had done to him.

• “You’re a cop car. How was I supposed to know you’re too stupid to understand how crosswalks work?” The data pad in his big servos cracks. And then he’s shoving up from his desk so fast his chair turns over. Glaring down at you like he’s considering squishing you like a bug. Fingers digging into your upper arms to hide the faint, nervous tremble, you smile sweetly. “Oh, did I find a nerve?”

• You’re trying to provoke him. Even knowing that, he’s still lunging. Mass shifting again even though he feels the drain to his reserves from the massive expenditure of energy too soon after the last and knows he’s going to pay for it later. For now there’s your satisfying little yelp as he catches you by the arm and yanks you into him, his other arm cupping the back of your head when you try to rear back. There’s that anger that twists in his spark. “Not nearly so bold now,” he growls, lip curling as you actually bare your little teeth at him and he remembers that startling lick of pain when you’d bit him.

• Big hands on you, pinning you to him as the jerk smirks. But he’s your size again or closer to it anyway. Tugging against his grip just to feel his servos tighten against you, because you like it even if you’ll never be able to admit it out loud. “You think?” You ask him and he leans closer like he’s daring you to try and bite him again. And it’s tempting, but using the brush guard on his chassis to boost yourself, you lunge, mouth crashing against his in anger and frustration and need all twisted together.

Previous

Next

I think Soundwave may be winning for most shelf space taken

[sideblogdotjpeg]

best quality of sol is not the optimism or the lotalty actually it is the eating mosquitos in the air so his friends dont get bit. cab you imagien. can you imagine living a life where you never had to get bit by a single mosquito. where you never had to thjk about getting mosquito bites. wherre you could hang out and sit down in any room anywhere and not have to fight with your life against the one million rabid mosquitos that want ur blood so bad it makes them look stupid. can you imagine . and nothing bites your ear which hypothetically wpuld be so bad because you wear glasses so its always kind of there . and you have to take anticallergy meds because ohhh my god the bugs they do not stop they want ypu carnally they see a still body with blood so tasty delicious from drinking maybe 2 litres of milo in a week and go i Need this In Me. and you have to beon tje prowl constantly for those little sick fucks and theyre so slow and fat aith your blood but ur even slower and everytime u catch one its but a shallow victory because not fifteen minutes later will another sick fuck come to bzzzzzzzz next to ur ear and the lights are off so u cant see them but u knoooowwww. they are there . you see them in the corner of ur vision. they Are There . but anyway the frog . and so callie and calder simply dont have to think about that. because sol is eating all of the mosqiotos for them. and i think thats really awesome for them

[ask-dcf]

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

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

*She gets up*

*Before she could continue they spoke once again*

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

*Chara stares. With her eye twitching*

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

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

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

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

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

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

[anon-e-miss]

Bearing the Broad - 4

Prowl’s peds hardly ever touched the ground. When he walked, it was only on the softest carpet as he made his way to the bath. The paint did not wash away, not from his peds, not from his face, arms, thighs and belly. It would remain until it wore off and if Jazz’s behaviour was any signal, the paint would still be there when Prowl entered emergence. The oils the Prince massaged into his plating every mega-cycle only helped it last. They also helped his sentio-metallico stretch as his forge extended. It was growing so quickly. By the time he gave emergence, Prowl would be far rounder than he was tall. No one seemed to be concerned for his fitness, it was strange that Polyhexian culture had developed in such a way that the far smaller partner carried. Prowl knew that it was Seekerkin and not Seekers that carried in Vos.

Though the coronation would not take place until a stellar-cycle of mourning took place for the old king, Jazz had become king immediately upon Straxus’ death and he had immediately gone to work.  Polyhex, Prowl realized had been poorly managed by the old king who had squanders its resources and emptied its coffers. This was why Jazz had gone through the effort of employing Prowl’s services. Only a member of the royal family with an heir in the cradle or in the forge could be crowned. None had fit that bill until Jazz had paid Prowl to kindle and carry for him. His cousins had tried very hard with a number of lovers but none had ensparked. Jazz did not care of his wastrel cousins and feared what ruin they could bring Polyhex. Prowl did not know how true his fears were but he could at least confirm for himself that Jazz was pouring his all into rebuilding the nation’s resources and pride.

Prowl sat as fount every mega-cycle. These poor mechanisms were so starved new originators could not produce the energon their bitlets needed to survive. Whether it was the fuel he consumed or the environment, Prowl’s wells never trained so long as he sat with Jazz, the pump the temple to Primaprovided forever sucked energon from his nozzles, no matter how long he sat in service for. The priests said his was foster origin to the entire district as every bitlet and sparkling fuelled from his wells. How one mech, even one with his supply could do that made no sense to Prowl? It was Punch who explained it.

“Prima works through ya when ya sit on her throne,” Punch explained.

All Cybertronian life had begun in Prima’s forge, according to the beliefs of Polyhex. Prowl moaned as he saw himself in her image. She sat in the lap of Primus, King of the Gods, and progenitor of all nations. His spike filled her as she, so much smaller than her king, sat in his lap, her legs held up behind her knees. Jazz mirrored this pose as he was painted by the court painter. Went through the expected motions, speaking with his court. His cousins had their supporters and they were not so agreeable. Prowl found himself lifted of Jazz’s spike and held there on display, his gaping valve drooling lubricants. His optics bugged out as Jazz perched his tight aft on his hard spike. He brought no force to bear but allowed gravity to open Prowl’s aft on his spike.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Prowl cried as gravity slowly pulled his aft down on the giant’s massive spike.  His little hole was cleaved apart. Chained to his belt, Prowl’s plugged spike twitched and his ruined valve oozed a torrent of lubricants.

Jazz held one of his legs up under the kneed as he fragged Prowl’s aching, empty valve with his digits. Prowl mewled as those digits stimulated his gamma cluster and made his valve gush as his afthole was destroyed by the giant’s spike. His wells grew firm as they engorged and Jazz pulled the clamps off his nozzles which immediately started to leak. Before the entire court, Prowl was debauched. It cowed them, somehow, though it would surely only be temporary. Runamuck and Runabout were Straxus’ natural creations and even though the throne did not pass in such a manner, they felt entitled to it by being his first emerged. Jazz would have to prove himself a worthy king at every step to ensure he had support should they wage a rebellion.

Prowl drank pressed energon as he sat impaled on Jazz’s hard spike. His aft throbbed around the plug that prevented the transfluids Jazz had spilled in him did not leak out. It was a huge plug, carved from a rare gem. It only made him feel fuller as his valve twitched around the giant’s monster spike. His belly bulged out well passed his knees. It was not only Prima working through him when he sat as fount but Primus working through Jazz. The newsparks in his forge were growing quickly, far more quickly than the normally would have. Jazz had booked him for two contracts. How loose would his belly, wells and holes be when the Prince was done?

“What about there?” Prowl pointed at the map. Jazz was searching for the site of an ancient aquifer that could hopefully be renewed and resolve all of Polyhex’s fuel shortage problems. The topography he had noticed looked to be close to an ancient underground river.

“Check there first,” Jazz ordered.

“But…” the engineers looked down at Prowl, so small and debauched in their king’s lap.

“My future queen is brilliant,” Jazz declared and Prowl flushed as the lie continued. “’N singularly blessed by Prima and Primus together. Check there first.”

The aquifer was found where Prowl had suspected it might be, blocked only by an old rock fall, restoring it took an orn, rather than vorns. Jazz stood by an ancient waterfall, just above what had once been a lush garden. He was posed as Primus with Prowl as Prima skewered on his spike and his huge, firm belly on display. The sounds of the river restored roared in Prowl’s audios and he overloaded with a cry as the waterfall was reborn. One by one the hanging pools filled, promising the rebirth of the long dry gardens. All those who gathered bowed and sang blessings.

“Long Live the King. Long Live the Queen. Long Live the Queen!”

“But I am not queen,” Prowl argued later as Jazz massaged oil into his belly. Prowl could not even wrap his arms around it anymore. There was no question he had kindled giant newsparks.

“No reason ya can’t be,” Jazz replied.

“There are many,” Prowl countered. “Namely, you contracted me to carry. You did not court and conjunx me.”

“I can court ya now,” Jazz offered and Prowl flushed. “To their thinkin’ I put bitties in yer forge so I conjunxed ya. Things are different in Polyhex , Prowl.”

“Were you ever planning to return me to Praxus?” Prowl asked. “Or was it easier to pay for my forge rather than find a consort you actually wanted?”

“What makes ya think I don’t want ya, Prowl?” Jazz asked. “I had every intention o’ returnin’ ya home ‘n I have every intention o’ doin’ just that if it’s what ya’d rather.”

“Clients are not meant to fall for surrogates,” Prowl argued, a little distressed by all the new developments falling onto him at once. They had found five newsparks when they had scanned his forge, giants and little bitlets growing together and all growing in line with their spark’s code.

“I don’t know how any o’ yers didn’t,” Jazz said. “Y’re perfect.”

“Oh…” Prowl murmured.

“Don’t ya like doin’ more than forgin’?” Jazz asked. “Don’t ya like usin’ yer processor advisin’ me?”

“I do,” Prowl replied. “They do not like you listening to me.”

“They don’t matter,” Jazz argued. “The citizens think ya embody Prima. They’d despair to see ya go.”

“They do not need me the same way as they did,” Prowl countered. “Now that the pools have refilled and the gardens are coming back to life.”

“The line at the temple ain’t any shorter now than it was,” Jazz replied. “Yer energon is more pure than anythin’ from a river. Prima blesses ya ‘n ‘em as ya sit as faunt. There’ll always be mecha that need ya for this.”

“I can try being your queen,” Prowl said. “For however long this whim lasts.”