#so prowl would stay up with her and teach her these things

[sug4r-melon]

27 for Shrike. Girlie was born on Earth, she got one

27. ocs zodiac sign

she is a Scorpio! it doesn't have a significant impact on her, but she still appreciates being able to know all of earth's constellations :> including the one that represents her

[calisources]

𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂, 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋, 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences have been taken from different media to be compiled into a list. This is not a meme for minors, the content here goes from mild to highly sexual, topics like dominance, submissive, bondage,praise kink and breeding are all present so discretion is key. Change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

You are perfect. And now you wear my mark, your ass is mine.

Tie me up, please…

Kiss me hot,heavy,wet & angry with that attitude like you do when your mouth yells it hates me but your tongue screams it can’t wait for me.

Let me undress your body, caress your skin and wetly massage your mind back into making love to me again.

They wanted her. They all loved her. And they wanted to keep her.

A little vanilla never hurt anybody.

If you have any sense you’ll stay away from him.

Touch me, like this, like a good girl.

That’s it, use your tongue. 

I'd planned to have you on your bed the first time, but maybe I should take you here, by the mirror, so you can see how splendid we are together.

I’m not going to deny that I want to fuck you. I cannot do anything else, But I will say that I have plans for you if you say yes.

I’ll fuck you so good, for so long that the only thing you’ll crave is my hands on your skin, my cock deep in your pussy.

I want a second serving of you. I’m hard just thinking of your perfect breasts and hard nipples.

As much as I appreciate that, right now you’re all I want to eat.

Now will you please sit on my face already?

You are corrupting me, Theo.

But you like being corrupted, don't you, sweet girl?

The destruction of something beautiful can appear so entertaining.

If women were totally satisfied with their sexual and lovemaking experiences, women would welcome the lovemaking experience as much as men.

I want to learn from you. Teach me what you know.

Once I make you mine, you will be mine forever. I will call you and you will come, in more ways than one.

What have I taught you? Show me, sweet girl.

Use your thighs, ride like it’s your last day on this earth.

I been aching to be inside you since we met, you devil woman.

Hands braced against the wall, and open your legs.

You tasted sweet, like oranges, liquid sunshine in my mouth.

I need you. Every pore of my being is begging. This is what we do.

The things I want from you, darlin’, will give you nightmares, ones like you’ve never had before.

If you could read my mind, I’m pretty sure you’d either be traumatized, sexually aroused or both.

The nicer you treat her outside the bedroom, the naughtier it will get inside the bedroom.

Sex is a part of nature. I go along with nature.

That’s it. You can take a lot more, don’t you? Hold on to me.

If you behave, I’ll let your hands go and touch me.

I love your skinny legs, and what's between them.

 I don't want words, but inarticulate cries.

All you have to do is beg, and I will give you what you want.

I want you splayed out on the table like my own personal feast.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.

You make the sweetest little noises. But I need you to be louder, let everyone know.

It's like an itch, isn't it? You can feel it in your throat. You want to scream for me.

Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I've been here. Only me. You are mine.

I felt like an animal, and animals don't know sin, do they?

And ye whimper under me, and struggle as though you wanted to get away, and I know it's only that you're struggling to come closer, and I'm fighting the same fight.

I can help you with that.

Forgetting him. Moving on. I’m okay with being your rebound. I’ve already said that I want you.

You’ll give yourself to me? Let me take control? Let me send you over the edge of ecstasy time and again until you awaken?

Possess. Have. Hold. Enjoy. Control. Dominate. Pick your verb, Ms. Fairchild. I intend to explore so very many of them.

I feel claimed.

You’re so primed. I can feel that hot little pussy clenching around me every time I move a muscle or say a word.

Yeah, arch your back so I can look at you going nice and tight around my fingers.

Pet, I give you permission to be as vocal as you wish, because I am going to blow your mind in a few minutes and I want to hear how much you enjoy the ride.

If you want me to touch you, all you have to do is ask. It would be my pleasure -  and yours.

Watch me make love to you.

I'd like to bite that lip.

I want you sore, baby.

I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you.

There is no room in my body for anything but you.

Eat me, drink me; thirsty, cankered, just take me as I am.

I live for sex. I celebrate it, and relish the electricity of it, with every fibre of my being.

I’m not wearing anything underneath. Want to see?

You will be staying here until I’ve deemed it safe for you to go back to your life. Do you understand me?

Dominate you? Yes. Master you? yes. Make you yield to what you want, make you surrender to who you truly are? Yes.

Why don’t you scream my name? Let every other man and woman who you belong to.

I don’t want to think, I just want to feel.

I taught you everything you know. Every man after me is just a shadow of what I did to you.

I knew you could be a good girl.

You were fucking made for me.

God is not gonna save you from me, baby.

My mouth wants you, I want to feel you in my mouth, way down in my mouth.

I am moist between the legs.

I came three times. During sex. 

Do you know all the ways a Lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you?

You stay right where daddy puts you, baby girl.

Wait until you taste her. She is fucking delicious.

Lick my fingers and feel how wet you are.

Are there big, bad monsters in the woods who want to eat me up?

Right there, don’t stop. I can feel it. 

Please come in me, I don’t care, I want to feel you.

Where do you want it, baby girl? Your cunt, your mouth or your neck?

Close your eyes and relax. One kiss. I don’t bite.

Seriously? In the morning, again? 

You said to rest but I can feel you hard against my back. 

You can do all the rest sweet, let me take care of you.

I want you to fuck me, Chris.

A little playful banter never hurt — or did it?

One should always explore something, before one goes in deeper.

Come here and undress me.

How am I supposed to do my job when all I can think about is getting back to you?

Someone could walk in on us. 

Better be good and come fast, then. Or everyone will see you begging for more.

I can imagine my hands getting your fucking clothes off right now.

Do not shy away from the sensations I create, Cherry Blossom. Take pride in them, as I do.

Am I doing it good, baby? Just like you taught me? 

Tell me I’m a good girl. Your only girl. 

When I come, I come for you. Because of you and your mouth, hands, and insatiable little cunt.

My tongue, my fingers, my cum inside you. Just you and me, Eva. Intimate and raw.

How many have been with you ever since? Or no one compared? Tell me.

Show me then. I demand that you show me. That’s an order.

[beemochi-art]

For the Character: twitch 8, thrash 2, nightshade 18, hashtag 20, jawbreaker 21 and slipstream 14.

For the Ship Forte-verse Jazz/prowl D and for the author 🌍

2) First time meeting their best friend

Thrash first time meeting his best friends is when the Malto adopted him. Robby and Mo aren’t just his siblings but his best friends.

HOWEVER! Thrash was ecstatic to meet JB. They are connected to each other through an emotional bond and became friends quickly.

8) First time they took a risk, or the biggest risk they've ever taken

Teaching herself how to fly. None of the autobots fly, Wheeljack tried his best to help her but unfortunately he wasn’t successful at teaching something he doesn’t know. She had to learn herself, and with a lot of practice (and being a bit of an extremist.) she got it.

14) First time facing their fears

Slipstream isn’t necessarily scared of concepts she is instead more scared of certain people. She is afraid of Megatron most of all. She most of the time stayed out of his way. But When Megatron was going to kill Starscream she couldn’t stand by. She shielded Starscream with her body, this decision could have killed her but instead Megatron spared Starscream. She still got hit but at least her dad is alive, though he probably wished he was dead during the beating. Though she faced Megatron she is still scared.

18) First example of real character growth along their journey

(SMALL RANT. I am very upset on the treatment of Nightshade by both the fandom and the writers, l wont start on my issues with the fandom cause those issues aren’t relevant here. I wanted so desperately for Nightshade to be an actual character, and for season one they were but after that it was just over, no more problems, no more contemplating issues. Unfortunately like most Lgbtq characters, they are turned into a place holder, just a box to check on the pandering list. It seems like now nightshade is just the person with the remote that fixes everything, part of the reason why I like Earthspark Expeditions is Nightshades dialogue when you screw up. Nightshade pull no punches on making you feel bad, which is something that happened to me a lot cause I was really bad at those side quests. But even though they weren’t a playable character they still felt like more then a place holder, that bot can be sassy. And I loved it. But alas, it’s probably too much to expect a company to make actual Lgbtq characters like normal character. Regardless I feel like it is important to include lgbtq characters in media)

ANYWAY!! Nightshade came online and was alone, they saw the decepticons destroying everything/ some decepticons seeing Nightshade as vermin and the Autobots fighting back in a brutal way. They recognized that they were a similar species to the cybertronians but renounce they’re ferocity and brutal ways. Nightshade also learn the hard way that humans aren’t that different either. Feeling alone and confused about the world around them, they decided they would just live solitary. Until that option wasn’t available anymore due to the decepticons. Nightshade left with no better option followed Twitch to the Autobot base. Nightshade was stand-offish and sometimes mean. Throughout they’re adventures they learn that the Autobots are here to protect them and may not be right all the time but are trying. Nightshade connected with Bumblebee, they have many similarities. Nightshade also come to sympathies with some cons as well. Nightshade wants gets inspired to want things to change in peaceful way… there has to be a way.

20) First time they felt accepted/welcomed by another character

Hashtag had to be rescued from a M.E.C.H base. Being forced to fight both autobots and decepticons, She was very confused, aggressive and didn’t really know anything. She did know the bots she had an emotional connection with were apart of her in some ways and could be trusted. She didn’t really like humans either, so when Thrash took all the Terrans back to the Malto home she stay around the woods near their home.

It took lots of time but the Terrans as a collective brought her out of her shell and made her feel safe. They told her that technically she was the reason they all were together now. They may have never met if she didn’t call to them.

21) First major change in their life, and how they dealt with it

Jawbreaker leaving the decepticons. He had too. He needed to go find what was calling to him. But that wasn’t the only reason. He knew Megatron is wrong, maybe he was right a long time ago but now it’s wrong. Jb barely understands anything about the War but he has seen people get hurt, he’s been hurt.

Jb took a risk and left without looking back. He mostly keeps to himself about his decision but sometimes struggles with it and wants to go back. He’s not dealing with it too good, but he’s got his siblings to lean on when he needs it. He just hopes those he left behind are doing ok.

D) First kiss

After a couple of dates and Jazz egging Prowl on. Prowl went to kiss him, unfortunately there was more then his nerves getting in the way.

🌍 - First attempt at worldbuilding, or a notable piece of worldbuilding you're proud of

A personal series I have which has OOTALS AND OOTALS of of world building that I am proud of. I love this story and I’ve had it for years, probably one of the early stories I’ve made. It’s called Wolfram.

Tf stuff has definitely helped my world building skill.

[regular-samdragon]

More tfa Reverse au sketches and rambles. Here's the first post for the initial info on all of this

I dont exactly have a plot idea for this au yet, just mostly silly interactions between the characters. I'm still a little lost on what to have the decepticons doing in this. I have some slight ideas though, just might change up some details later

It makes sense for the decepticons to also be humans in this au. The initial idea I had was that Megatron owned the corporation that paved the way for technological developments in the city. Of course, Megs isn't the scientific mastermind behind it all. He just happens to own the company. Starscream and Blitzwing act as the head scientists, and Barricade is head of security. Starscream is constantly trying to think up ways to take over the company himself while the others are content to keep working under Megs. After all, he doesn't restrict them on how ethical their experiments have to be.

Sumdac himself, I haven't quite decided on yet. The lot that Ratchet's and Prowl's establishments are located in definitely has more than one store, so one idea I had was for Sumdac to stay human and own an electronics repair shop. Perhaps he misses Sari's initial landing, but the gang ropes him in when she ends up needing specialized repairs. Or, alternatively, he could be Sari's cybertronian dad, stuck back home and worried over how his daughter's first mission is going. Although he wouldn't be super involved in the au if I went with that idea.

Swindle is the owner of the local pawn shop, also in the same lot. He rarely seems to ever show up to work, leaving the shop closed for several days in a row. Sometimes even for weeks. It's a wonder to everyone how the pawn shop still manages to make a profit when Swindle is constantly on his 'overseas trips'. Bee and Bulk have swapped plenty of theories on what they think Swindle really does for a living, such as being a secret agent, or his store being a front for secret military experiments.

Thinking more of the lot they all work in, I'm calling it the Tower Plaza. Sort of drawing off the idea of Sumdac Tower from the show, and yeah a little inspo from OK KO I have to admit. The Tower Plaza gets it's name from a tall, abandoned clock tower that stands as the icon of the area. The clock hasn't worked for years but no one can afford to own or repair the building. This ends up becoming Sari's main hiding place. Bulk and Bee help her to spruce things up inside, making her a real home away from home. There's even a big basement door she can hide out in when Meg's men start poking their noses around.

Speaking of Megs again, his goal in this au would primarily be to capture Sari and have his scientists reverse engineer her for their own advancements in tech. Pretty much exactly what Sumdac did in the show with Megatron himself. Although while Sumdac had empathy for Megs when he was found to still be alive, Megs in this cares not what happens to Sari in the process. He doesnt see her as a living being (yet), and mainly just wants to advance his company for even higher profits.

And thus comes the conflict between the Tower Plaza gang and uhhh whatever I end up naming Megatron's company as.

Smaller notes:

•Folks on discord helped me out to find the PERFECT alt mode for Sari. That is, a Folland Gnat fighter aircraft. It's small and speedy and just really fits Sari's vibes

•Bee personally takes it on himself to teach Sari as many human curse words as possible. Orion nearly has a heart attack the first time he hears Sari swear

•Bee is also the one who came up with nicknames for everyone. Although Bulk is the one who came up with 'Bee' for him

•Orion was a second lieutenant before he was discharged

•Orion doesn't like to talk to anyone about why he was discharged from the military. Uncle Ratchet knows it involved another lieutenant and an intelligence officer, both friends of Orion. He doesn't know anything past that.

•Cybertron is not at war in this au, meaning the factions of autobots and decepticons don't actually exist. The need to hide the Allspark was more to keep it away from other alien races who would like to steal and misuse it

•Sari is only minimally trained for combat scenarios. With the occasional battle while on Earth, she asks Prowl to teach her some hand to hand combat. After an incident where she nearly took out a building, they now train far out in the woods

[inoreuct]

More weretiger Zoro thoughts bc I'm crazy abt it-

Before joining the crew, Zoros had a lot of bad experiences with ppl trying to kidnap/capture him, whether it be for his pelt or to keep as a pet or just to have as a spectacle. When bounty hunters come after the crew one day and somehow manage to cage him, it dredges up some bad memories. He fights the hunters off of course, hes stronger now, and has his friends by his side, but the encounter leaves him shaken. He tries to brush it off as nothing, stays in his tiger form so he has an excuse not to talk to anyone, but the crew can tell hes feeling uneasy, sulking around in the shadows, fur bristling at any loud noises or sudden movements. They hatch a plan, and lure him to the kitchen where its warmest, where theyve built a nest of pillows and blankets for everyone to curl up in together, and surrounded by his crew gently petting his fur Zoro feels a lot safer <3

ooh,,, weretiger zoro lore YES PLEASE 🤭 thank you for the ask anon!!

call it twisted, but zoro is used to running for his life. fighting for it. before everything (before safety, before them), people catching a glimpse of him could only mean three possible things: a leash, a cage, or a skinning knife. years of evading trappers and hunters and rich bastards who thought they could own him (dead or alive, they hadn’t really cared) had honed his survival instincts knife-sharp and taught him how to keep himself out of trouble. he’s ever only been in a cage once, and never again.

but he’s gotten lazy. his crew and the solace of their ship on the open sea— they had lulled him into a false sense of security. he’d let down his guard and now he’s looking out at the deck through metal bars with clammy palms and his throat tight, and it’s chaos.

there are bounty hunters fucking everywhere, like a swarm of roaches trying desperately to gain the upper hand; they had clearly overestimated themselves, based on the way his crew’s wiping the deck with them. a thrill of vindictive satisfaction threads through zoro even as a group of the bastards prod at him with bayonets and swords. that satisfaction only grows when he snaps at them, snarling and baring his fangs, but he can’t hide from the fear that pools underneath.

that, he isn’t quite so used to. fear is not something that roronoa zoro feels on a regular basis; he’d picked up his swords and turned himself into a weapon of a man, half out of necessity and half just for the way people pissed themselves just hearing his name. then it had been bar fights to duels to bigger bounties and then sudden safety, stability, Merry’s gentle rocking under his paws as he prowled the deck and then Sunny, afternoon warmth on his fur as he curled up on the grass to nap.

the roiling in his gut and the tension at the back of his neck is something zoro hasn’t known since he was very, very young, and weak, and alone.

he snarls again when the tip of a sword swipes a hairsbreadth under his chin, cursing himself for losing his focus as he backs up against the other side of the cage, resisting the urge to peek over his shoulder. the ocean rolls gently at his back; he can hear her, but it’s a small comfort. if he tips the entire cage into the water and fails to pick the lock, it would drag him down to a watery grave and he is not ready to die today. nami yells somewhere, her voice followed by a crack of thunder, and zoro bites down a manic laugh as he remembers her trying to teach him to lockpick and him being honestly quite dismal at it— not an option, then.

the cook had fared better at it, nimble fingers and all that. said cook goes flying past with his leg on fire and slams his heel into a bounty hunter’s face with a solid crunch. as zoro takes stock of the deck, everybody else is busy and that realisation doesn’t make him panic a little, it doesn’t. breathe, he reminds himself. they took his swords, but it doesn’t matter. he fights plenty well enough with his fists, not to mention the damage he can do in his other form.

one of the hunters bangs his rifle against the bars and zoro’s heart jumps, a shudder rippling down his spine as the man pspsps’s at him like— like he’s a fucking cat. “who would’ve thought,” he begins, laughing nastily. “roronoa zoro, the elusive green tiger. how’s it feel to be backed into a corner, hm?”

“all those years of stealing our bounties, taking all the money— don’t worry, now,” another sneers. “you’ll make it up to us when we get paid for the fur off your back.”

the disrespect makes him growl, deep in the back of his throat. he wants to rip off their heads. he wants to run away and hide. their cackles are loud and obnoxious, and the closer zoro looks the more he realises that he knows these guys. knows their faces, anyway, and he has those faces categorised in his head as nothing more than riffraff. he wraps his fingers around a bar discreetly by his hip, squeezing tight until he feels his claws extend, and cool metal presses into his back as his breathing comes quicker.

once before. he’d only felt this once before, icy against his too-thin fur, curled up in a trembling ball at the corner as jeers and the banging of metal on metal filled his ears. switching between boy and cub on instinct because he couldn’t control it with his heart pounding hard enough to hurt.

his gaze flicks around unseeing before he finds usopp, loosing rapid-fire shots of something that sends his targets into violent gasping fits, clawing at their throats before going still. the moment they lock eyes, zoro straightens; there’s a question there, a quiet moment of stillness as usopp holds his form, waiting. do you need us to come get you?

zoro steels himself, takes a breath and grits his jaw, and he shakes his head minutely. no.

a small nod, and that stillness shatters. usopp dives out of the way with his hands over his head and a startled yelp as luffy’s fist flies out of nowhere, and zoro sighs through his nose.

“not my fault i was just better than you,” he says, offhand and unbothered, tipping his head back against the bars as he surveys the hunters around him coolly. they react exactly as he expects; loud outrage and yelling and more clanging around, and he feels that urge to curl into a ball and hide shift into something more spiteful. more vicious.

it heats his blood as he notes the lock of the cage and nearly raises an eyebrow, because of course the whole damn thing’s made of reinforced metal except the latch. he’s seen enough of franky’s work to know shoddy workmanship— they skimped on quality because of the cost, probably because they’d planned to be dealing with a mindless beast and not a man. zoro huffs a laugh.

and sure, nami could try all she wanted to teach him how to pick a lock.

sometimes, though?

zoro inspects his space and backs up as much as he can. the cage is small, but it’s enough. he’ll make it work. metal scrapes against the taffrail as the ship rocks beneath their feet.

sometimes, old-fashioned’s just the way to go.

he crouches down, waits for one of franky’s cannon’s to draw the hunters’ collective attention, and pounces.

the door slams open as he rams it with his shoulder, cheap metal snapping like straw as he bursts onto the deck and fuck, the momentary standstill before the panicked scrambling starts feels electric. he shifts in an instant and yawns, prowling around the group of hunters, crowding then back against the cage as his tail lashes like a whip.

they’d just caught him off guard and coerced him into an enclosed area. fools. he melds back into his human form, eyes glowing gold as the wind ruffles his hair. “you should have collared me,” he chuckles, just the slightest bit cocky because please, he’s earned it by now. “maybe a leash. rope, at least. what the fuck made you think just caging a tiger was a good idea?” zoro flashes his fangs, bright white and lethal, and a man whimpers as his grin widens.

his footsteps are silent as he shifts back and stalks towards them. there’s a reason he’s known as the demon of the east, after all, and he thinks it’s due time to give the world a reminder.

*

“so…” usopp begins, fiddling with a short piece of rope. “who’s gonna address the elephant in the room?”

luffy looks around at the bounty hunters sprawled over the deck, all in various states of consciousness. “there was an elephant?”

usopp holds in the urge to sigh and drags a hand down his face. “tiger in the room. whatever.”

their captain tilts his head. “zoro’s not here.”

“exactly!” usopp exclaims, before he checks his surroundings and ducks his head to hiss, “exactly.”

“he’s probably off napping somewhere,” chopper offers, but even that doesn’t sound very sure.

the swordsman had disappeared after he’d shoved the group of mauled bounty hunters into the cage and bashed the lock in to seal it shut before chucking the whole thing into the sea. he’d stayed just long enough to watch it sink and then crept off somewhere— and he still hasn’t reappeared.

“oh— you know what he’s like.” nami rolls her eyes, perched on top of an upside-down crate, arms crossing as sanji squeezes her shoulder. “he’s fine. nothing shakes him.”

“you didn’t see the look on his face,” usopp shoots back, feeling strangely defensive. he knew what zoro was feeling, read it clear as day; he was intimately familiar with the kind of fear where you felt too small and too trapped to do anything.

he knows about zoro’s past. they all do. and the thought of zoro, fearless, larger-than-life zoro, undefeatable zoro, crammed into a tiny cage and getting poked at like a zoo animal? it makes something in usopp rankle so strongly it surprises even himself.

he startles as a gentle hand rests on his back. “i do believe our sniper’s right,” robin hums, leaning into franky’s side. “we should make sure he’s fine, don’t you think?”

there’s a general murmur of assent, and usopp leans back against the taffrail with a feeling that it’s gonna be easier said than done.

*

zoro doesn’t remember ever being this shaken.

he’d just been… numb, when he was a kid. not yet warmed up to the idea, the reality, that he’d be hunted just for what he was. after that numbness faded most of what he’d felt was rage; he’d indulged the instincts to hunt, to sink his sharp edges into muscle and viscera, until luffy had earned his loyalty and then the rest of the crew after him.

now he can’t stop feeling like he’s gonna tremble out of his skin, and he hates it.

it’s been days since the fight. he shouldn’t be affected. shouldn’t have been affected at all. but now without the adrenaline of battle, everything’s coming back crystal clear— the panic that had nearly choked him when the cage door swung shut, the sound of the lock clicking bouncing around his skull like a rubber ball. his own blood rushing loud in his ears, heart thumping a staccato against his ribcage, his eyes searching for someone, anyone, shoved back by the gritted statement that he didn’t need anyone to save him.

he hadn’t. he doesn’t. he shouldn’t.

and yet he hasn’t shifted in days, prowling the shadows of the ship on four legs, head ducked low and ears pressed down as he keeps his belly close to the deck. he tells himself he’s hunting for imaginary mice and jerks at every sudden noise. he’d let his guard down and then he’d payed the price and now it’s driving him mad; every creak and shift of the Sunny has him on edge, fur standing on end, and he hates it.

without his battle instincts, he’d have been stuck in that fucking cage. usopp had snapped him out of it a little— he’d made it out, but barely. the stupid metal box had been so small that if he’d shifted he wouldn’t have been able to move, and even now the thought of it makes him feel like throwing up.

the feeling of being locked up is not one that you can forget. bravado can only get you so far; he’d been a fool to think that being part of luffy’s crew offered him infinite protection, no matter how strong any of them are. he’s supposed to be able to handle himself, and he can. he can.

he hates this.

he’s been wandering aimlessly, strolling around without particular reason. his crew’s been trying to get him out of his funk; franky made him a whole new scratching post. sanji’s been leaving his favourite booze in the crow’s nest. brook had played jolly sea shanties for hours (and admittedly, zoro had felt terrible about just slinking off midway) and jinbei had tried to talk to him, but he gave it up when zoro just gave him a look. he knows they care, and he loves them for it, but he’s oscillating between wanting to go on a rampage and hide in a cupboard. the promise of safety still feels too good to be true after a refresher on what the rest of the world means for him. he knows he’ll have to get back to routine soon and he will, he just—

his ears prick up, and he pauses. listens.

“—arimo!”

he chuffs. it’s nearly midnight; what the hell is the cook calling him for?

“marimo! get your mossy ass in here now!”

and okay, wow. rude much. he wouldn’t put it past sanji (or any of his nakama, for that matter) to try another funky attempt at cheering him up, but on the off-chance that there’s actually something wrong…

he growls low in his chest, half-annoyed, padding around the corner and shouldering the galley door open.

he takes one look and turns around to walk right back out.

there are pillows and blankets piled everywhere on the galley floor, and the oven door’s open. the whole space smells like dark chocolate and cookie dough. zoro can’t do this.

everything after that happens in quick succession: he hears luffy laugh, he thinks oh no, and then he yowls as he’s grabbed and yanked into the midst of the massive pile of bedding. he flashes his teeth in a baseless threat, whipping around to hiss at his captain, but luffy just snickers and pulls back his arms.

he’s disgruntled even as the rest of his crew slot into place around him. it was a trap, and he admits he’s literally fallen right into it as he hears nami whisper, “told you he’d come if you called—” and then the sharp, mildly reproachful click of sanji’s tongue.

the cook turns to him, cross-legged with a pinstriped pillow hugged to his chest. “you don’t have to say anything,” he says plainly, eyes flickering to the side as he fiddles with a corner of the pillowcase. “or do anything, for that matter. just… stay.”

zoro stays quiet and lets himself look around. everybody’s in their pyjamas, smelling like soap and chocolate; franky has a nightcap on. luffy shoves a cookie in his mouth whole, and jinbei pretends that he doesn’t nudge the plate closer for their captain.

zoro doesn’t need them, maybe. but he remembers years of irregular sleep from watching his own back, stuck in his human form, always hyperalert and pushing for the next paycheck.

he’d been miserable before them. he really doesn’t need them— he can survive just fine on his own.

but that’s all it’d be, wouldn’t it? surviving. not living, not really. he doesn’t need them but he wants them.

it’s easier to admit than he expected. nothing changes. it’s no big revelation; just one that he’d been too afraid to acknowledge until now.

the anxious feeling in his stomach has settled some, and soft chatter starts around him as he lays down to rest his chin over his paws. after a while there are fingers in his fur— he allows it. if only just for tonight. let us help, is what he hears as he feels nami’s nails scrape gently between his ears, luffy playing with his tail, the warm wash of lamplight making sanji’s hair gleam dark gold. brook’s laughing quietly in the corner, and he can feel chopper’s chest rise and fall against his side.

sleep comes easily, for once. these people, his family— they make safety a little easier to believe.

[brandwhorestarscream]

I love the ideia of a very tiny megatron 🤣

But now I'm picturing Prowl riding Green, like she's a dragon.

Oh my god your brain is HUGE

How did he make friends with Green? Easy! Her egg fell out of the nest during a storm, and Prowl was in the middle of making an improvised pulley system to put her hack, but then, uh oh! The egg started cracking, and a la The Wild Robot, the baby pterosaur imprinted on the first thing she saw. That being Prowl. She started following him around, eagerly, always chirping and nuzzling at him. She loves her mama bot so much!

Green's already taller than him at the point of hatching, and it takes a lot to feed her. The wire worms are slippery and wiggly and also longer than him, digging them out of the ground and then pulling them out like stubborn, oily weeds takes a lot of work. When she learns to use her beak and claws to help uproot stuff, it's a relief, and he's very proud of her

Teaching her to fly is a conundrum! Many crashes, many bruises, and he worries she may never get off the ground. He tried to return her to her parents, but she refused to stay in the nest, and after the third time of her jumping out of the tree to follow him, he gave up and took her home. He reads what he can on the datanet about pterosaur rearing and how best to care for them, but they're not exactly a common domesticated pet. He figures it out as he goes, strengthening her wings and confidence through play. When she finally gets into the sky, part of him is worried she'll never come back. But she returns swiftly, flying a few laps around the big tree that the microbot lives under, before coming back in for a clumsy landing, visibly preening and hoping for praise. He gives her lots of scritches and says, "Good girl, Green! Very well done."

The first time he flies with her, it wasn't by choice. Green suddenly put her beak to the ground and shoved her head between his legs, forcefully nudging him onto her back and between her shoulder blades, then took off with Prowl screaming and hanging on for dear life. Afterwards, he starts fashioning a body harness for each of them, multiple clips on his to help him stay in place, and directly reigns so he could help control where she goes. They're quite a sight, tiny little 4 inch Prowl riding on the back of his green dragon daughter 🤭

Final thought: the first time Prowl sees the world from the sky is a life-changing moment. Obviously the world is huge, just titanically massive compared to him. The sheer scale of everything made it difficult to digest, and his first time in the air, everything looks small. Everything looks like it's his size, and for the first time in his life he realizes how desperately he longs to live a life like the Big Ones, with no scurrying and hiding and having all the opportunities that they do. He'd like to live in a city like the ones he sees from on high, with other bots. How nice would it be to have a whole place that's the right size? He can only imagine

[minniethemoocherda]

Five Times Sunstreaker Didn't Tell Bluestreak What he Wanted to Say, Plus One Time that he Did: Chapter 4.5

A/N: Like I said in my most recent notes for Iridescent, ever since Transformers One came out, I'd been able to update my Across This New Divide series at least once a week. But with the hype dying down and with me being busy on other projects I'm working on, this series is probably going to go back to a fortnightly updating schedule, mostly likely alternating between this fic and Iridescent. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Xxxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

For the third time that night, Sunstreaker woke up from unconsciousness.

This time, he found himself lying in the med-bay.

Once again Sideswipe was asleep in the seat to his right. His body was half hunched over the end of Sunstreaker's berth, like a cybercat, sleeping on guard at their own's pedes. This was far from the first time that Sunstreaker had gone full bezerker mode so he knew that they both knew that he would be exhausted but alright. Still, through their bond Sunstreaker it known that he appreciated his brother's presence.

Then he felt something squeeze his left hand. Confused, Sunstreaker turned his head.

There illuminated by the med bay lights, and with her dent smoothed straight stood Bluestreak. She almost looked as ethereal as she had the day they met.

Energon still stained Sunstreaker's claws. Whoever had checked him over must've been too pre-occupied with whatever other injuries he'd got to have bothered cleaning them. Bluestreak squeezed them again anyway.

"Teach me how to kill." She asked.

In that moment Sunstreaker couldn't have denied her anything.

They started training the next day.

Prowl didn't even try to stop them. Sure he was beyond pissed about them all sneaking out and every second not in the training room was spent in the brig. However, whilst Prowl was many things, mostly a stick in the mud with said stick shoved too far up his own ass, he wasn't stupid. He must have known that with the current state of the world that Bluestreak was going to have to fight eventually so whilst he hadn't let her spar with the soldier's he'd still taught her some self defence.

That didn't change the fact that Bluestreak wasn't a natural fighter. She hadn't had no choice but to grow up fighting like he and Sideswipe had. So whilst Prowl had taught her how to throw a practiced punch and how to perfectly perform the twelve katas of cyber ninjutsu, that wasn't going to help her when she was scrapping to stay alive.

That didn't mean she didn't have other talents though. Sunstreaker had been right. She had an almost unnatural ability to find the week spots in a person's armour. Her was aim more precise than even her brother's, to the point that Sunstreaker wondered if she had an undiagnosed outsider ability.

Despite this, out the many brawls they'd now had, Bluestreak had yet to last more than one minute.

That morning's had started out like any other training session. Once again Sunstreaker easily sidestepped Bluestreak's kick whilst simultaneously sweeping her other leg out from underneath her. From the floor she aimed another kick, catching his knee. He knelt with the blow, his other knee winding her as he pressed into her stomach. She tried to push him off so with one hand he pinned her arms above her head whilst the other grabbed her throat, his claws sinking into her skin.

Her high pitched inhale hitched, her eyes blown wide and her mouth gasped open. Sunstreaker was suddenly aware of how she was sprawled beneath him. Her legs splayed like a star, her back arched as the large curve of her chassis pressed flush against his own. This close he could feel the hot air of her gasps merging with his own.

Sunstreaker loosened his grip. Bluestreak then rammed her helm forward, slamming into his face. Dazed, his grip loosened even more. Bluestreak yanked her hands free, shoving him onto his back. Now she was the one straddling him.

"Gotcha!" She cried, her usual smile more of a smirk as the light streaming through the stained glass of the training room circling her like a halo.

Sunstreaker was too stunned to be mad when Sideswipe burst out laughing.

Sunstreaker could not sleep that night, his mind continuously sketching out all the endless possibilities that fight could have ended if they had not been in the middle of the training room floor.

He couldn't look her in the eye the next day.

Eventually yet all too soon, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe both grew into their final upgrades. Finally they were both old enough to sign up. And with the Autobots need for new soldiers, they didn't have the time to waste. The day after the pair finished upgrading, they were to immediately be shipped out to basic training.

Bluestreak, Prowl and Brawn were the only ones who came to see them off. Which after spending his entire life alone was honestly more than Sunstreaker expected.

"You're going to kick Decepticon ass." Brawn grinned, arms folded across his broad chest.

"Make sure you leave us some left." Sideswipe grinned in return.

It had taken a few rounds of beating the shit out of each other but eventually Brawl had gotten over his humiliation of getting his own ass handed to him by a teenager. When he had and had actually bothered to learn what the twins were tying to teach him, he became the most improved out of all the frontliners. Whilst Sunstreaker wouldn't describe them as friends, he couldn't deny that Brawn was a decent fighter. Not as good as him of course, but compared to the rest of the Autobots on base, Sunstreaker supposed that he was alright.

Brawn snorted.

"No promises."

In a rare display of physical contact, Prowl patted the twins awkwardly on the shoulder.

"You pair are the finest fighters I have ever known. And if you can stay out of trouble, then I know you will make the Autobots proud."

Sunstreaker couldn't help the preen of pride at the tactician's praise. He couldn't remember the last time an adult, especially one in a position of authority had paid him a compliment. It meant a lot to hear those words. Not that Sunstreaker was going to tell Prowl that.

Bluestreak however had no such awkwardness and gaily threw her arms around the pair. Sunstreaker froze for a second before he sunk into her touch. A lifetime on the streets still had him finishing at unexpected contact. He hoped one day that he would get used to her casual displays of affection.

He held her close, trying to remember the warm curves of her frame, his claw stroking a stay feather that must've gotten caught from her collection of plush toys.

Just as sudden as it had started, Bluestreak jumped back and Sunstreaker immediately missed her presence. For the first time, he worried how he would survive boot-camp without her.

"I know its not much and you're probably going to think it's kind of stupid but you guys are the best friends I've ever had so I wanted to thank you for teaching me to fight and everything and anyway I hope you like it!" Bluestreak cried, thrusting something into Sunstreaker's hands.

It was a framed holo of the three of them. Judging by the blurred lines and time stamp in the corner, Bluestreak must have hacked it from the security cameras. It captured the three of them sitting together in that bench. Sideswipe's grin was wide open, probably in the midst of saying something stupid. As expected Bluestreak's beam was the brightest light in the photo. But what Sunstreaker didn't expect was the smile upon his own face. It was small and hard to make out against the grainy screenshot, but there none the less. For once it was void of smugness or sarcasm as he looked at the two people who's lives mattered to him more than his own. Sunstreaker couldn't remember the last time that he had seen himself smile like that. He thought he had forgotten how. It might not have been as bright as Bluestreak's but it was still a light that only he could bring to the world.

"No, thank you." Sunstreaker said, even though she probably had no idea just how much he was grateful to her for. He wanted to tell her about everything she had done for him. And how he had come to fall for her.

But Prowl was right there. And Sunstreaker didn't really want to confess his feeling with her brother standing behind her.

However whilst Sunstreaker was not a particularly religious person, and if Primus did exist then it was clear that they hated him in particular, this time something in Sunstreaker's spark knew that he would see her again.

[moonlight-tmd]

So i've talked about how Bee has ADHD. I also mentioned him having depression in another distant post. Today i will expand on the thought-

Bee did not have a happy life before he met his friends. He was neglected and abused as a Sparkling and never had anyone to care for him which resulted in him basically growing up on the streets and having to teach himself to write, read and all that stuff. He didn't grow big because of malnutrition, which made him into a minibot- which was basically an error in the manufacturing that the gov't incorporated as another frame type.

Bee has a lot of sparklinghood trauma from what i've told. Even as a tiny bitty still in the carequarters, he had thoughts about how would it feel like if he was just gone. No one wanted him so he just kept thinking while staring into the heating forge while doing his chores. He ended up running away and growing up homeless. He tried to land jobs but failed cuz he was defected and basically had no emotions. Until one bar let him work and the owner caught onto the little bot's behavior. He was the one that got him an appointment and a place to stay at cuz Bee told him he didn't have any. So Bee got his emotions "unlocked" and finally got the chance to live somewhat normal life. But not for long because the bar was shut down for some reason and he ended up applying in the higher academy with military program. He met Bulkhead then and they became friends.

It was somewhat of a relief from the constant suffering on his mind, he actually got better. Then he met his other friends and Sari, life was good... but then, he started spiralling down again. Wasp was back and Sentinel has come to Earth seemingly to keep tormenting him. On top of that Decepticons also made his life a pain with their lines...

I know that i said Prowl is the unpaid therapist of the group and he is. But stuff like personal trauma is not the stuff he gets to hear, Bee only comes to him when he needs serious advice. I actually think Arcee would be the one to diagnose Bee with depression.

After she got saved from 'cons trying to reprogram her she sticks with team prime for a while, which gives her opportunity to interact with the others. She was a former teacher and had a degree to be a trehapist at her academy, even tho she mostly interacted with older sparklings she knew what to look for if one had something going on. And that's exactly what she saw when she was around Bee; the way he carried himself sometimes just told her something was up with him. And so she offered to talk with him in private, then she brought up something being off with him and if he wanted to talk about it. He didn't at first but got persuaded with her kind words and the fact she was a professional like Ratchet.

... Arcee could not have gotten a diagnosis so fast in her entire career.

The longer Bee spoke the more trauma and issues were uncovered. And those issues ran so deep it became a serious mental issue right there. Arcee took notes and later presented them to Ratchet who outright felt stupid for not noticing it faster. They both had Bee sit in medbay and talk with them after that. Bee felt so bad for letting his issues weight onto them but Arcee was quick to comfort him and tell him it's okay to ask for help.

So, on top of the ADHD meds he was prescribed when Ratchet discovered he had ADHD, he was also given antidepressants. Since the cybertronian time is a bit different from earth i say he had to take the pills every 3 earth days. Given that Ratchet made him set a repetitive reminder in his system it also made him take the ADHD meds that he often forgot to take.

He also was given free therapy appointment with Arcee when she left back on Cybertron. They'd have a video call once every 2 weeks or something and go over things that happened. It helps.

I imagine a scenario where someone catches him taking all the meds and they're very worried cuz Bee nor Ratchet told them about needing to take meds. And Bee is assuring them that he's fine.

"Look, I'm okay- that's what these are for! They help me feel better. There's nothing to worry about!" Bee says with the most assuring tone one have. He also tells them to not talk about it cuz he doesn't want everyone knowing he has issues like that.

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

May I please get Nikolai just being nice to Riot? Just comforting her in way, he can. Or maybe just cheering her to keep being beautiful and mischievous, as she already is?

I mean a little text, not a render.

Disclaimer: Extended Russian sentences between <>

Setting: Near future, when the investigation about HeadHunters is on again (will be expanded in the fanfic). After Darker Matters (and their reunion)

I can't make a little text, omg...

Solntse moye: my sun

Solnyshko: sunshine

"I'm fine"

"I know your 'I'm fine's very well, but ok. We'll speak tomorrow. Now try to sleep"

"Sure. Good night, Kate"

Riot hung up the hotel phone before Laswell answered, and left it carefully on the bedside table, drowning the urge to yank it off and throw the device against the wall.

The day had been draining, being interrogated over and over and over again. Going over her training, Gibraltar, HeadHunters, Transnistria. To the point of being physically sick due to the memories and having to rush to a public toilet right after stepping out of the hearing hall, followed by a very worried Gabi and Kate.

The previous day had been the same. And the following day, there would be more of the same shit.

"Me cago en la puta (very ugly Spanish swearing)" She hissed, through gritted teeth, sitting alone on the bed of the hotel suite in London where the investigation committee had made her stay at. "Me cago en la madre que me parió (another ugly variant of ugly Spanish swearing)"

Alone. The only sound came from the TV, showing a music videos channel.

None of the 141 had been allowed off duty to accompany her. Price had fought against it, but in the end, what Headquarters said, went.

Her only company and support were Kate Laswell and Gabi, but they weren't allowed to sit during the hearings either.

She wasn't allowed to call or receive external calls, and her phone was in Laswell's hands for keeping. So she didn't even have the comfort of venting to Johnny or Kyle, to complain to Price, or be appeased by Simon.

God, she needed Simon. So much that every cell in her hurt.

Alone with her thoughts and with only the TV to keep her company, she thought she'd go crazy before dawn, prowling through the suite like a caged animal.

But there was a knock on the door, and she stared at it, frowning. She wasn't supposed to see anyone. From the hotel to the government building and back, with guards. No visitors, no calls.

Whoever it was, they knocked again, and Riot stood up to go to the door. If someone finally came after her, like with the other former HeadHunters operators, so be it.

But it wasn't a former 'colleague', or anything of the sorts, who was standing there as she opened the door. For a second she was speechless, but then tried to be as deadpan and sardonic as always, but her eyes betrayed her.

"I didn't order a Russian fixer to room service"

"Ah, solntse moye, but I'm sure you'll let your Russian uncle inside" Nikolai smiled, with the mischievous grin that was so typical of him, that sometimes infuriated so many people, but in that moment was what she needed the most.

Without a word she dove right into his arms, burying her face in his chest and gripping that stupid striped t-shirt whose name always escaped her. She could feel the rumble in his chest as he laughed and hugged her tightly.

"What are you doing here? How the fuck did you know I was here?" Christine muttered, so pathetically relieved that she felt a knot in her throat and stomach. Trying to regain her composure, she released him and stepped back a bit. "And how did you enter the hotel? It's supposed to be guarded. Is Olga here too?"

"<One thing after the other, my little sunshine>" Nikolai looked at both sides of the corridor and then pushed her inside to close the door after them. "I'll start with the last because it's easier. I have my methods, one day I'll teach you. Olga couldn't come, she's taking care of some business but sends her love"

Christine looked even sadder for a moment, but smiled and allowed him to guide her to the sofa in front of the TV to sit down, with Nikolai holding her hand.

"What are you doing here, Nikolai?"

"Tsk, tsk, solnyshko, so impatient" He laughed, tapping with his fingers on the back of her hand. "I came to visit you, of course! A little bird told me you could use a friendly face"

"Does that little bird have muttonchops?" She kept smiling although she rolled her eyes, so visibly happy that she couldn't care less about the dull pain on her face due to the strain on the scar tissue. "Or was it Kate?"

"To be honest... both of them" Nik dragged Christine closer, to wrap an arm around her shoulders. She wordlessly snuggled against him, feeling a bit better. "John told me that you were forced to come, to give your statement, and that you were all alone. And Kate very kindly told me the hotel where they're keeping you. And here I am"

"... were you even in the country?" No way. There was no way that Nikolai had been in the UK by sheer coincidence right when she was alone and pathetic.

"What does it matter, solnyshko?" Nik smiled indulgently, running his fingers through her hair as one would do with a little kid. "<I am here now, and that's what matters>"

"But why?" Christine insisted, and he just shrugged, without losing his smile.

"What do you mean, why? Because you needed me, solntse moye"

In other circumstances, in other company, she would have been able to control herself. But after two days of having to explain what happened, in detail, to a group of unknown people who had too much chest candy, without Johnny to be her rock, without Kyle and his calm reassurance, without Price's immutable support, without Simon, Christine felt drained, spent, exhausted and disheartened.

Therefore, when the tears started to fall, she could do nothing to stop them, and sobbing, she buried her face in the crook of his neck. Nikolai just held her, murmuring soothing nonsense in Russian while rubbing her back and running his fingers through her hair.

And she told him everything. Every single horrible, questionable, bloody, painful detail, wanting to die all over again, feeling shame all over again, feeling the rage that darkened her soul. How she was abused and tortured. How she was made to stare at the rotting bodies of her squad.

How she had murdered every single one of her captors until only the leader was left, and how she had tortured him for hours until she finally set him on fire while still alive.

At times Nikolai felt anger and clenched his jaw, staring at the void she was unveiling before him, but his hands kept gently craddling the little girl in his arms, his little sunshine, so brave, so scared and so hurt.

"You did what you had to, little one" He cooed, his voice as calm and nonchalant as always. "You tell your privates that in your self-defence classes, da? Survival is the only goal, by any means needed. And you survived"

She only nodded silently, and Nik kissed gently her hair.

"The only thing I regret of all this, solntse moye, is that you didn't leave anyone alive for me"

"That's what Ghost said" Christine laughed quietly. "And Price"

Nikolai felt better seeing that she laughed and smiled again, and brushed one thumb on her cheeks to wipe away her tears.

"There's my sunshine"

"I don't feel very shiny" She muttered, with a sad little smile, and Nikolai laughed softly, keeping her snuggled and comfortable in his arms.

"Tomorrow will be another day, solnyshko"

"I have to go in again"

"And I'll be waiting when you get out. I promised John you wouldn't be alone"

The music channel on the TV had started showing music videos from the sixties and seventies, and when one song in particular started to fill the room, Nikolai's ears perked up.

Here comes the sun, doo-doo-doo-doo

Here comes the sun, and I say

It's alright

"The Beatles. My grandma liked them" Christine smiled, and Nik looked at her, pretending to be offended.

"Are you calling me old, little one?"

"If it walks like a duck, and sounds like a duck..." She grinned mischievously, more like her usual self.

Little darlin', the smile's returning to their faces

Little darlin', it seems like years since it's been here

Nikolai dragged her up to their feet, and grabbing her hands forced her to twirl, following the music.

"What are you doing?" Christine giggled, allowing it, as they danced to Here comes the sun.

"Making sure you don't think about today or tomorrow, solntse" Nikolai made her twirl again, grinning. "Just enjoy the music. Soon everything will be over and you'll be able to go back home"

"Home" Christine sighed, thinking of her newfound family that she needed so much, and Nik nodded.

"Home. And I'll take you there"

[seeyouonsaturn]

ask game

Bird: Ohh ninja power couple <3 Granted, Prowl never gets to see Bird come very far in her training, but she's a decently quick study and able to pick things up just by watching him. So after getting to know each other and ecah other's fighting styles well enough, they're able to move together in a commendable display of teamwork, managing to communicate each other's intentions wordlessly and predict and compliment each other's moves. The deep understanding they have of each other pays off well for them, along with lots of practice, of course.

Bird may be far from having mastered cyber-ninja training, but she was a capable fighter long before ever coming to earth, and is fully able to hold her own in a fight. The main thing Prowl is teaching her is not the battle moves themselves but restraint, to be mindful of her surroundings even mid-battle and avoid unnecessary damage. Which he admittedly needs to work on himself also, but having to set an example for Bird helps remind him of it, so it's a win-win all around.

Skyline: Pre-movie canon, Skyline has actual military training and experience through being in the New High Guard, while D-16's fighting history mainly entails getting punched in the face by Darkwing. Don't get me wrong, he's incredibly strong and fully capable of throwing a couple good punches, but he's also a cogless miner who really does not want to break protocol or draw attention to himself. So, if for whatever reason a fight were to occur with both of them in it, Skyline would be the one kicking aft while D-16 just watches, mouth hanging open just a little bit (oh no she's hot). Don't underestimate Skyline just because she likes having a pretty paint job, she's spent most of her entire life training for this exact scenario. She's not pulling her punches.

Of course D-16 wouldn't hesitate to come to her aid if she needed it, and despite being much smaller than any cogged bot I'm willing to bet he would not go down easy, especially if it's on Skyline's behalf. But she really does not need it. Honestly, she's been hoping for years to get a chance to actually use the skills she's been practicing in a real situation.

Post-movie, the roles are basically reversed. Not that Skyline forgot any of her moves, though she no longer practices them nearly as much as she used to, but Megatron prefers her to stay out of fights. He's the one in the middle of the battlefield, holding his own through his sheer brute strength even with no real training, guns blazing and more than likely covered in energon and various other fluids. Skyline wants no part in this war. But, again, that's not to say she's suddenly incapable to fight if she chooses to. And she will fight with her conjunx if he asks, and defend him with all she has, whether she agrees with him or not.

Countless years into the war, it's rare to see Skyline participate in a battle, or even to catch a glimpse of her at all, but if she does enter the fray, her skill mixed with Megatron's strength make for a powerful combination. He's no longer inexperienced – far from it – and Skyline has had more than enough time to adjust to the differences in her frame after losing her wings. And, regardless of the state of their relationship, they do know each other more than well enough to entrust their lives to each other fight as one. In short, they're not a duo you want to have to face.

Bluescreen: It's not that Bluescreen's completely helpless in a fight. She's a pretty skilled sharp shooter, and as such makes for a good defense from a distance. But up close? Unfortunately, she is rather tiny, for a Decepticon. Especially next to Lugnut – though, to be fair he makes everyone look small.

It hardly even matters though, because standing that close to Lugnut and watching those rippling robo-muscles flex as he pummels his opponent, all to protect her, renders her completely useless anyway. She's awestruck, staring, struggling to reboot her processor over and over, while Lugnut has to handle the entire battle on his own. Then he has to pick her up and carry her back to base, because she's barely even conscious at this point, and Megatron would not want him to just leave her (even though personally he would not consider it that great a loss).

So Bluescreen winds up cradled in his strong arms (or rather picked up by the scruff and flung over his shoulder), processor fizzling out again, too caught up in the daydream of being carried to safety by her handsome hero and very own Prince Charming to even notice when they arrive home and he just drops her on the ground.

@iholli

[anon-e-miss]

Sizeable 2

What being fragged by a giant Jazz had not ruined, carrying his giant bitlet had finished. Due to how far Prowl’s forge had extended during the carrying, it did not retract all the way flat after giving emergence. The extra mass his frame had take on in his carrying had stuck around on his belly and hips. His wells remained obscenely large but he was still nursing his femmeling, perhaps they would shrink some after she weaned but with his luck, they would deflate like popped balls. Even his face had gained a new softness and Prowl hardly recognized himself in the mirror. The trim enforcer he had been was long gone. A plump originator was in his place.

“Oh eee!” Strongarms squealed with glee as Prowl came to retrieve her from her crib.

He pressed a button to drop the gate so he would not need to try and reach in. She was a roly poly bitlet, perfectly sweet and round. Ratchet had worried that Prowl’s frame would not be able to support a bitlet twice the size of the average Praxian newling but his wells had never come close to running dry. Prowl released a vent, she was getting very heavy, and carried her over to the rocking chair. Reaching behind his neck, Prowl untied his apron and let it drop. Strongarm needed no help to find her way to his nozzle and she latched quickly. She kneaded his other well as she drank from the first. Prowl could already feel his energon drawing down. It remained uncomfortable for Prowl to wear armour, even stellar-cycles after emergence. Until he returned to active service, he largely went without, wearing an apron to keep some sense of decency.

Strongarm knew nothing else. She had no concept of armour and propriety yet. She knew her progenitor’s garb was firmer than her originator’s and that was plenty at her age. Jazz was already teaching her to be gentle with her originator because she was so big and strong. Prowl flushed a little at the thought of Jazz. At some point he had stopped shifting back down to the size he had always been before. It may have been before Prowl had even given emergence. Where once Jazz’s helm only reached Prowl’s chin, now Prowl’s helm only reached his waist. Strongarm showed no signs of shifting her mass. It was possible she would just be a giantess by Praxian standards. She was healthy and that was all that mattered to her originator. Prowl was just so small compared to her progenitor and it always made his belly tense to think of it.

He knelt on the floor and played with Strongarm after she was done nursing. Prowl shifted awkwardly as he tried to find a comfortable position as they stacked blocks. He was wearing a plug in his sheath, trying to convince his spike to remain retracted but his spike was another thing that had been broken either by fragging Jazz or carrying for him, it would not remain retracted. It could not just hang out once he returned to wearing armour and so Prowl was committed to retraining this errand piece of equipment. Either it would learn to stay retracted or Prowl would get used to wearing a plug.

A consequence of Jazz keeping a giant’s size was that he had a giant’s appetite and Prowl made huge vats of soups and stews and other fuels every orn to keep him in good health. He would need to cook even more once Strongarm was a sparkling. In fairness, Jazz did cook some but he was still in active service and sometimes he was gone for orns. It only made sense for Prowl to keep the home to the greater extent. Immediately after emergence, Prowl had kept to his berth on Jazz’s orders but Prowl had recovered from the ordeal and Jazz had returned to work. It was a war and soldiers had to serve. Even now, Prowl did what he could, processing intelligence and formulating strategies as he kept up the home and kept up with his active little giantess.

“This here’s the prettiest pair I ever saw,” Jazz declared as he came home from an orn long mission.

“Gee gee!” Strongarm squealed and she toddled over to her progenitor. Jazz lifted her up with perfect ease and swung her about, something Prowl did not dare do.

“Were ya good for Ori?” Jazz asked.

“Ooh oh,” Strongarm giggled. Jazz set her down and scooped Prowl up, kissing him to the point of breathlessness.

“Oh Jazz,” Prowl gasped, faceplates flushing.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Jazz purred. “Lookin’ beautiful as always.”

“Thank you,” Prowl replied. Jazz always said that, or things like that. He always lusted over Prowl’s plump frame. “Your timing was good. I was just finishing dinner.”

“Lemme get the Princess ‘n myself cleaned up, ‘n I’ll set the table,” Jazz declared.

He was a good progenitor. The moment he came in the door, whatever horror he had committed in the Primce’s service or whatever horror he had witness by Decepticon servos, he was always sweetness and joy with Strong arm. After dinner, he played with their creation and then took on the task of bathing her. Prowl sorted out the kitchen as Jazz wrangled their creation. It was certainly easier to get on top of messes when Jazz was around to chase after Strongarm. Prowl put the leftovers away and wiped down the counters and tables. He put the blocks away and for a moment appreciated that the habsuite was not a total disaster. Putting Strongarm to berth was a team effort. She would not settle without nursing first but after she had drunk her fill, she was happy to be read to and sung to by her progenitor and then tucked into her crib. As she snuggled in for a long recharge, Jazz scooped up her originator. Prowl squeaked.

“I have plans for ya, Prowler,” Jazz said.

“Oof!” Prowl gasped as Jazz laid him across the table and dove between his legs. He covered his mouth to keep from squealing and waking up his creation. Jazz’s glossa was long and wide, his helm was wide as an average mech’s waist. Prowl’s legs were spread wide by his shoulders as Jazz sank his glossa into Prowl’s valve. He did not stop even as Prowl’s hips bucked as he overloaded. Jazz fragged him with his digits as he sucked Prowl’s mode. By the time he was through, Prowl was utterly limp. His optics brightened and his mouth fell open as Jazz lined the tip of his spike up with Prowl’s shimmering folds.

“Been too long,” Jazz groaned as he speared Prowl with his ruinous spike.

It had been a while, largely because Jazz had been on the other side of the planet or Prowl had been exhausted with their creation. Prowl watched the outline of Jazz’s spike in his belly as Jazz broke into his gestational forge. How could he think when a spike thicker than his leg was carving its way through his internals? All Prowl could do was cover his mouth so as not to disturb Strongarm. His optics rolled back in his helm as Jazz’s spike sawed in and out of his valve. It never stopped feeling too big, too long and too thick. Just as it never stopped triggering all of his internal biolights and nodes, making him overload time and again.

“Aie... Aie!” Prowl squealed behind his servo when Jazz pushed his spike into his forge. The plug in his sheath popped out and his lip spike extended and laid flat on his belly. No transfluids oozed out. His reservoirs had not produced them in a long time. His optics were wide and glowing white. Jazz had fragged him so deep since that time in the training room. If his spike went any deeper it would come out Prowl’s mouth.

“Y’re so pretty takin’ my spike,” Jazz purred to him. He towered over Prowl as he fragged his womb. Prowl watched in a lustful fog as Jazz pulled out and thrust straight back in and his processor broke. The next thing he knew he was laying across the counter and Jazz was fragging him from behind. The giant Amaglus leaned over him and purred into his audio. “Next time yer baking cookies for Strongarm yer gonna get wet rememberin’ this is where ya conceived her brothers.”

[elfmoon3]

A Shadowy Mist Chapter 38 (Transformers Animated story)

Pairings: Prowl x Oc, Bumblebee x Oc, Optimus Prime x Black Arachnia, Oc x Oc

Disclaimer: This is still on the same day Patrick and Riley show up.

Summary: Blitzwing's stunt made Grim intrigued about the triple faced decepticon. Meagan needs to get her brother a birthday gift before tomorrow.

Location: Detroit, Michigan

After seeing Blitzwing, the humans stared at the sky in fear. Captain Fanzone brought up his megaphone and spoke, "Don't worry folks, the decepticon is gone, go home." He said as the worried citizens went home. He sighed, knowing his job wasn't going to be any easier. But he turns around to the agents, Sari and Meagan's family members, as well as the Autobots. "So uh, who wants BurgerBot?" He asked nervously.

At BurgerBot

Meagan sat with her brother and sister-in-law, who looked worried. "Ok, so let me get this information straight, there's evil robots too?" Patrick asked, "Yes, Pat, do I have to repeat myself?" Meagan answered with a question. "The Decepticons are starting to be more and more dangerous to the people of Detroit. It's my mission to help the Autobots, teach them more about our planet, and gain new agents along the way." Meagan said as her food came. Riley then looked at Sari at her table with Fanzone, Crusher, and Grim. "And that girl is part robot?" She asked, Meagan explained everything about her current mission's past events. And everything she's learned about her teammates, the Cybertronians, and of course Sari as a whole. Riley and Patrick looked at each other and sighed. "Ok, Meags, as long as you stay safe around these things, it's fine." Patrick said, "But at least contact mom and dad every once in a while. They're worried about you." He added. Meagan looked at him, "I'll be sure to do so." She said, smiling. "So why is your partner a motorcycle?" Riley asked, looking at Shadow Mist in her vehicle mode. "Capitan Fanzone picked that as her earth vehicle mode." Meagan answered. "It's a lot smaller than Prowl's earth vehicle mode, but it's just as cool." She added.

At Fanzone's table

Grim stared at his food, not eating it. "What's wrong, Darkson?" Fanzone asked."Ya haven't touched your food." He said in worry. "Sorry, captain, it's just that Decepticon, Blitzwing. Why is he so intrigued by me?" Grim asked. His stepbrother was eating his burger and then looked at him. Sari also looked at the pale skined human. "Look, I don't know why that con is so interested in ya. And this is gonna sound geeky coming from me, but when a villain is interested in a hero, it means that the villain is trying to learn from the hero, like their weaknesses and their strengths. But mostly the weaknesses." Fanzone said. "How'd you know all that information?" Crusher questioned the captain. "Back in my day, I read a lot of comics about superheroes. They were fun to have back then." He said, drinking his shake. "It's best if Blitzwing doesn't learn about your weaknesses." Sari said, "The robot girl is right, stepbro. If he learned about your issue with heat, he'll use it against you." Crusher said. "Meagan did say that Blitzwing has both cold and heat powers, so I have to be careful around which side of Blitzwing I encounter." He said, finally eating his iceberg lettuce salad. Prowl watched his partner with concern in his vehicle mode.

Later that same day.

Meagan, Riley, and Scottie went to the mall looking for a gift for Patrick. They entered a store that had alternative clothing and other stuff that punks, goths, and other alternative people would like. An employee greeted them. "Welcome to AltTech boutique. How can I help you?" She asked in a bored tone. "Um, my brother's birthday is tomorrow, and we're looking for gifts." Meagan said. The employee looked at the three girls and noticed Meagan's look. "Wow, sick outfit, you must be really into the alternative scene." She said, Meagan smiled, "Oh yeah, totally." She said, "Aren't you that agent who's helping the Autobots?" The employee asked, "Um, yes." Meagan answered, "How'd you know that?" She asked back. "You and those aliens are like all over the news. So it's no secret that a government agent is in town." The employee said, "Well, the Unknown Agency is working with the government, but we want people to understand about the strange. While other agencies want to keep it a secret. And since the Autobots are allies with Earth, it's ok." She explained. "Um, what's your name?" Meagan asked the employee. "Sunday Poe, and if you want to look for a gift for your brother, look around as much as you'd like." She said, Meagan's eyes lit up, "Are you by chance related to Michael Poe?" She asked, Sunday sighed, "Yes, he's my grandfather. And to be honest, I don't really care for his warehouse of old junk except for the bones and skulls." She said. The girls looked around and didn't find anything that Patrick would like, so they decided to pick something for themselves. They purchased their items and left. "Still on the hunt, I guess." Meagan said, but then she had an idea and got in Bumblebee with Riley, as Scottie got in PixelSpark. "Bumblebee, I have an idea for Patrick. Just head to the craft store, and I'll explain later." She said as she buckled up. "Ok!" Bumblebee said as he and PixelSpark drove to the craft store in uptown Detroit.

To be continued...

[autobots-in-training]

Do ignore the other question from this account; it was my very chaotic friend. However, I do have a question for two of you and just a little thing to say to one more of you, and I do suggest not letting the others see this question. Hotshot First aid and Springer First off, this one is for first aid. I say as a medic myself quite simply that a lot of bad stuff is going to happen in the future to you and all of your fellow younglings, and you are going to lose a lot of bots under your care, but it will not be our fault, and you will become one of the best medics known to the cybertronian species, and I highly suggest you don't read this out loud to anyone else since I sound insane. Now since this "ask" just got a bit quite dark, let's lighten it a bit. Question for Hotshot: Since you are clearly aware your caretaker Optimus Prime is the greatest autobot to exist, have you ever heard of an autobot by the name of Elita-1?

Question for Springer: Since Prowl is clearly your carrier by the looks of it and just by the way you talk about him, did he ever tell you any stories and did he ever teach you anything cool?

- Medic Knockout (PS Im super srry that this is so long)

First Aid- Woah. Uh. Thanks! Are you from cybertron? I've never heard of you. I can list all the medics i know on one hand. Carrier, Lotty, Pharma, Red Alert and Hoist. Though they are all autobots, are you a neutral?

Arcee- First Aid, are you answering a question without us?

First Aid- Oh! Sorry i was just reading the question. These are for Springer and... Hot Shot? I think he meant Hot Rod. *takes a deep breath*

Arcee- Wait don't yell!-

First Aid- SPRINGS!!! RODDY!!!

Arcee- I hate you.

Springer- Hey Aid, whats up? I brought Roddy with me.

Hot Rod- Hi!

First Aid- Cool. Was your time with Hound and Mirage fun?

Hot Rod- Yeah!! Hound took us around the ship in his alt mode!

Springer- Illy got tired, so they stayed with their creators.

First Aid- Ah. Anyway, i called you guys cause you have a question each.

Springer- Nice!

Hot Rod- I wanna answer first!

First Aid- Do you know Elita?

Hot Rod- Riri talks about her sometimes. She's the autobot leader on Cybertron, since not everyone could or wanted to leave.

First Aid- Yeah, i think you were still too little when we left Cybertron to remember anything. You might have been 2-3 thousand years old when we left. Elita is basically on parr to Optimus. I watched them spar a couple times, they were 50/50 on terms of strength and skill. They were best friends too.

Hot Rod- Woaaah!!

Arcee- I was still a bit shy, so I didn't talk with her much. She was nice the times i talked with her. She's actually why i chose to be pink.

First Aid- It's terrifying sometimes. You look like you are covered in dried energon.

Arcee- Exactly.

Springer- What's my question?

First Aid- Has your carrier taught you anything or told you any stories?

Springer- About what?

First Aid- I dunno, thats just what the question is.

Springer- Hm... my riri has taught me quite a bit! I know some stuff about genetics, he knows a LOT, the study of cybertronian genetics wasn't allowed before the war, but both my carriers studied it in secret. I was actually one of their expiriments.

First Aid- Oooh, so they had you to see what traits you'd have from each of them?

Springer- Uh. Yeah. Kinda. He also tells me about my other carrier. I remember very little of him. His optics were... they were yellow. Carrier says i look a lot like my other carrier when he was younger.

Arcee- Thats really sweet!

Springer- I want to meet him again. I'm hoping he's still out there.

Arcee- When the war is over, we'll team up and look for our carriers together!

First Aid- I'l help! There's nothing we can't do when we work together!

Hot Rod- Can i come too?

First Aid- You're too little for that. And wouldn't you miss your riri?

Hot Rod- Oh... yeah :[. I'll stay then. Illy would be lonely without me too.

Springer- Wanna see your carrier now?

Hot Rod- Yeah!!

Springer- Let's go then!

*end transmission*

[aleburton]

fuckzachariah​:

There was a film between himself and reality, though whether it was suffocating him or the rest of the world, he wasn’t sure. What he did know is that the moment he ensnared her hand in his, squeezing the breath out of those little white vices that held both their hearts hostage, that film finally punctured. However small the hole, it meant breathing again. Alex took a moment to catch up, whining under the strength of him, but then all at once it clicked into place. And then her eyes were on his. Wide and watery. Honest. They needn’t say a thing, for in that moment it was all understood. Forgiven, buried, rejoiced. He bit down on his tongue until the metallic taste of blood trickled down his throat, waiting for his breathing to slow. The longer he held her eyes in his, the more the immovable desire to put himself into a coma with the same baggie they now strangled began to subside. He had never tried to not use before - perhaps that was the problem. He had thought it wouldn’t be one. A problem, that is. Well, I’ve never craved it before, how hard could it be to stop…? But how can you crave something you have never denied yourself? Yes, in the last half-year, his usage had increased. Doubled, tripled, even. But in the years prior he had still never, not once, said no to himself. Perhaps if he had admitted this to that bottle-glasses doctor, they’d have insisted he remain under lock and key until they could drain that instinct out of him. Rich boy in Hollywood can’t keep his nose clean. What a fucking sob story. 

Which is perhaps why he refused to take himself, his ailments, seriously. He’d seen real addiction - or, at least, what he considered to be real addiction. When you’re dirt poor and you still can’t stop. When you’d sell your own, your only son for a hit. Not whatever was wrong with him. And yet, when he looked at Alex now, he saw that inside her, her pain crawled around like a newborn predator severed from its family. No one to teach it how to survive, prowling in her chest and devouring what it can. She clamps her mouth around it and lets it all happen in beligerent silence. She drowned out the howling with that cracked white bar, of which he affirmed his earlier suspicion had been correct - she had indulged just to get through the night. And he’d put her there. He was not worth the effort, even though she fought for him. To stay alive. To be good. The best he could afford her was a little consideration - are you okay? So when she muttered to him that now, with him, she was. It didn’t feel real. He actually, unexpectedly, laughed aloud. It was not a cruel laugh - it was physical, burbling, overflowing relief, wrapped up in one pleasant little noise. It reduced to a quiet, barely-there smile. “Me, too.” He kept her hand clasped in his but lowered them to hang between their hips, and inched minimally closer. 

The scent of her washed over him. What he wouldn’t give to kiss her. It had felt simpler - like a real possibility - when they’d been riled to high Heaven and allowed rationale to sit beyond a locked door they freewheeled within. But now, wouldn’t it just hurt them more? Because what did it mean? Where would they go next? Whether it seemed true to anyone else or not, though, he had been holding back all night. Biting his tongue. Crossing his legs. Balling his fists. He was already sick of it. And nothing felt quite real in this room with her - it was a cloud of their making, blowing whichever way the wind took it across the sky, and they lived inside. It was not tension that bloomed in his stomach now, but a lightness. An excitement. A freedom. His hand lifted to cup the hook of her jaw, and she slotted into place like the answer to a prayer. She was so soft under him. He took a step, urging her gently backward, the backs of her thighs kissing the sink, all of him doming into her. His breath half-sweet, half-liquored as it mingled with hers. His lips fell apart as he felt himself losing what little control he had left. He forced their clasped hands open and let the drugs clatter at their feet, forgotten, then guided her hand to his waist. His abs twitched in response to her touch. His eyes flickered back and forth, lingering desperately on either her eyes or her lips, as he whispered to her; “I just keep thinking… what if…”

The brusqueness of his laugh just about startled her. The sound devoured the free expanse of the bathroom and her lips twitched into an indistinct smile. Though it had managed to take her by surprise, she welcomed it – especially if it meant she could distract herself with his beautiful smile. She felt as if she had seen less of it as they attempted to preserve what remained of his career, meeting with prospective agents, managers, and publicists. It was even more unpleasant trying to establish a new normal as only friends. To do so was almost like contending with nature which was inherently hopeless. It did not feel right, and they knew it. Efforts to seek comfort in something or someone else had been distinctly unsuccessful. Nothing could compare to what they had created for as often as they had crossed swords, screaming and sobbing until their lungs gave out, they also loved. How does one survive a love like that? Alex glimpsed upward, fawn eyes glistening in the light and still teeming with tears. A familiar compulsion loomed inside of her. The one where she slipped into submission just as easily she slipped out of each piece of lingerie. It seemed every cell within her body was hardwired for docility when it came to him, but she could turn it on or turn it off when she chose. A scrumptious gift in the bedroom.

She felt it pull harder as he stepped toward her, casting a slight shadow over top of her diminutive figure. Her heart began palpitate, deluged once more in a number of conflicting emotions. They had agreed not to do this. For the sake of their relationship, they couldn’t. What had changed in the months since they had reunited? Any element of restraint they possessed had been lost the very moment they took a seat at the dining room table. Their not-so-subtle flirtation bloomed into desperate grinding and air-humping, anything to replicate the thing they craved most. Confined and alone together, it would be impossible to resist. Who would be there to stop them? Who would know? Alex looked to the locked door, damaged by Zach’s outburst. Voices still lingered outside of it though she could not determine whether they were coming or going. He reached for her, holding the delicate form of her jaw in his hand. She sloped in it, nestling against the warmth of his palm. The restlessness and tension she experienced appeared to fade away, extinguishing it faster than any substance she had ever taken. Her back pressed against the countertop, greeted by the chill of white marble upon her bare skin.

Stiffened peaks formed beneath the sheer material of her top, caressing his chest as he sealed the space between them. Maybe she continued to take pleasure from her tryst with Luke. Maybe it was that she had not been able to fuck anyone else since they were separated. Maybe it was just the way he looked at her, like she was starry magic. Whatever the case, it didn’t take long for the sap to collect in the satin fabric of her panties. He breathed and it alone made her body tingle, laced with the sharp scent of Hennessy. The sigh that escaped her sounded more like a moan as he unwound her fingers and positioned them on his waist. Was this permission to touch? She had already forgotten about the drugs. Because she was high out of her fucking mind already from this. Her plush, heart-shaped lips parted as her gaze lowered to the silver hook on his jeans. She could still remember what he felt like inside of her mouth, hard and full as he rolled his hips back and forth, nudging against the back of her throat. Alex blinked, seemingly encountering a clean, but brief break from their perverted fantasy. Her eyes returned to the bathroom door, as if she anticipated someone to walk in at any moment. “If…,” she repeatedly softly, hesitantly; the tips of her fingers trawling against the chiseled outline of his abdomen, appreciating each firm muscle through his T-shirt.

“We’re not supposed to…you know that…” Her attempt to convince herself that this was wrong was incredibly flawed. He was supposed to believe she didn’t want this as badly as he did when her fingers were practically begging to sink beneath his waistband? She was all but foaming at the mouth for him. “We’ll fuck this all up, Baby...”

[konako]

I think my favorite part in OuaT is the breaking of the first curse and how entertainingly different the cursed personalities were from the enchanted forest personalities, and how they get flipped and awkwardly blended once it is broken.

Red: *Don't look at me, I'm a monster and I hurt everything I touch*

Ruby: *This girl's a hunter and I'm on the prowl*

Red/Ruby: *Oh God don't see me**compulsively flirting* / *I'm a horrible monster**Rawr ;)* / *I defer to Snow for making decisions**I will control every small thing I can because I don't have that option elsewhere*

Snow: *I am a respected leader, I have loyal followers and I am brave and powerful and unafraid of what must be done*

MM: *I teach children factors and try to avoid massive conflict with overbearing parents*

Snow/MM: * I am a respected leader** I would prefer not to yell* / *people have spent 30+ years talking over me and ignoring me**people expect me to have answers and a plan always* / * My biggest enemy is now my ally**I now have 30 years of memory's of my best friend/Fuck buddy in bed with my step-mother*

It's hard for everyone equally, of course.

👀what was that last part again??? huh 👀👀👀👀

Absolutely, anon! 

I looooove the new brand of problems that the first curse created for the people of Storybrooke. And it's specially fun to see the cursed!personality slip through the old patterns and habits of the original personality once in a while.

Like Ruby's sense of humor. Excuse me: """"" sense of humor""""".

That impulse to crack at joke to defuse tension came, most notably, from the cursed!persona, but stayed with Red, even as the personalities mixed into one. And Ruby has got the jokes, she has got the material and the observation skills and the comparisons and the puns, but Red does not have the same confidence in the delivery, so we end up with failed attempts at Funny like

Or

And it’s not the only example of two different personality traits merging into a new, weird (sometimes contradicting) one.

 Red's acquired ~seriousness, developed through trauma and self-loathing~ blended with Ruby's more outgoing and flirtatious nature, resulting in someone who's often unaware of how charming they can be.

So you think of how this new Ruby — with her combined parts and different lives, upbringing and experiences (although fabricated by a curse...) — interacts with Snow, who is going through the same thing, and struggles with opposing habits and impulses, just the same.

During the curse, there was a moment, probably before Emma arrived, when MM was actually intimidated by Ruby’s... whole thing. And Ruby, not being of the same wavelength of MM, didn't care to seek her approval. They kept their distance from each other. But you can imagine, back then, if the two were to interact more, Ruby would have had the upper hand in their dynamic, because MM was too shy and passive to counter or match Ruby’s boldness. 

Which is the complete opposite of Red Snow, the original duo. 

(And the moment Emma stepped into town and the real personalities and relationships started bleeding through the fabric of the curse, you could see the development in their interactions, and the moment the shift in the balance happened, and MM — now with a touch of Snow — started having some more control, when it came to Ruby — now, a little bit more Red)

So when the curse is broken and they're combined fully, there's this new layer added, where the "power struggle" (like there even is one) is more complex. Not as black and white. Or red and white. And while Snow is more dominant when it comes to Red, Ruby has a different, stronger energy, that can push back a bit against MM’s accommodating one. 

So it’s the meek teacher contrasted with the party monster, and the kind submissive werewolf contrasted with the brave, commanding princess. 

Now you get to think of the instances, way after the curse is broken and the personas are all integrated... where these contradictions make a quick appearance, and, oops, the balance in Red Snow shifts again.

[sencire]

When Lexa invited her to watch a training session with the Nightbloods, Clarke agreed more than happily. She knew Lexa to be a caring and thoughtful teacher to the young ones. Her teachings were truly fit to be lessons for future leaders, and they were meant as such too. To forge a successor, as wise and strong as Lexa herself.

That wasn’t the reason Clarke wanted to go though. It was the chance to see Lexa in action. It should be fun today, watching her teach children, not having to fear for Lexa’s life.

After only a short walk through the woods, Clarke arrives at the training grounds, already bustling with activities. The day is warm and sunny, and after picking the perfect viewing spot - a small hill that allows her to overlook the clearing - Clarke puts her jacket on the ground and sits down. Titus stands at the other side of the makeshift arena, talking earnestly to some of the Nightbloods and Clarke flinches. His grumpy face really is everywhere. A few of the older warriors are here too, inspecting weapons, chatting with each other, laughing. Clarke recognizes an expert axeman, another one who gave her a lesson in sword fighting. They’re the best in Lexa’s army, specialists in their craft, and they’re here to teach their skills to the young ones. The commander can’t teach them all personally, Clarke supposes.

She finds the familiar, lean figure sparring with Aden in the middle of the arena. Lexa hasn’t noticed her yet so Clarke settles in to watch. It’s an honor to be taught by the commander herself but Clarke also knows Aden is Lexa's favorite and the one she thinks to be the most promising.

Her weapon of choice with him is the staff. Aden is quick to pick up on the moves Lexa shows him and this, clearly, isn’t their first lesson. Several times, Lexa barely manages to avoid being struck as Aden becomes more confident by the minute and familiar with using and moving with the long weapon. It makes Clarke wonder if Lexa is doing it on purpose, as an encouragement, because it seems odd to see Aden get in such good strikes against a seasoned warrior like Lexa. She might just be toying with him, nurturing his ego and waiting for his mistakes. After Aden delivers a particularly bold move, she swings the stick in a wide circle above her head, forcing Aden to move back and he loses his stance for a moment. It’s all she needs to swiftly knock his feet out from under him and the boy lands on his butt.

“Again!” Clarke hears Lexa’s commanding voice. Her movements are so elegant, so smooth. Like a cat on the prowl she keeps her eyes on her opponent, waiting for her chance to strike. At the same time, she makes it look so easy. One time, Clarke had picked up a staff herself thinking it must be an easy weapon. That day she’d found herself on her back, on the ground like Aden, many times with the blunt end of the staff lightly pressing into her chest and Lexa looking down at her, doing her best to stifle her smirk. Clarke has marveled at Lexa’s fighting abilities many times since then, at her skill and the ease, the sheer beauty and grace of a woman performing her deadly dance.

Watching it again, allowing her thoughts to roam, Clarke shivers. It makes her crave Lexa’s touch even more. Ever since the one kiss in the commander’s tent, on the verge of a war that never happened, she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Lexa's touch, needing it, dreaming about it at night. She sometimes wakes up with Lexa’s name on her lips, but alone in her bed, alone in her room. Lexa treats her with nothing but respect, remaining polite, distanced, never asking too much and never coming too close. It drives Clarke crazy sometimes, trying to do the right thing while knowing, deep down, that she’s already lost. If Lexa kissed her again, Clarke would kiss her back too. She wouldn’t even think twice. The part of her that hopes it will never happen, for fear of having no strength to stay strong, is silenced almost completely now as she watches Lexa’s movements, the way she holds her head, hardly out of breath, deeply focused.

Sexy.

Clarke can’t help it. Though she’s afraid as well. Lexa is still the commander, powerful and ruthless. Just the other day, the squashed body of an Azgeda ambassador had to be scraped off the ground at the bottom of the tower. They told Clarke the man had angered the commander. And ended up dead. Lexa wasn’t vicious but she really didn’t take any shit. Clarke had met the Azgeda ambassador briefly, the morning before his death, a disgustingly smug and arrogant man who’d made no secret of his distrust towards her. He’d probably served as an example. Unless…? Lexa had her eyes and ears everywhere.

Clarke realizes she’s staring when she feels a return stare burning on her face. Lexa has lifted her head and looks straight at her. The hint of a smile flashes up and she lowers her wooden staff, distracted long enough for Aden to deliver a strike to her face, then he quickly swings the staff around and hits her temple. He takes Lexa by surprise, just like Clarke, who sits up in worry. Lexa stumbles but quickly catches her footing again. Hard blows from Aden, they surely must have hurt. But Lexa only shakes her head, looking at Aden with surprise and a tiny flash of anger, lifting her staff as if to strike back. But then she lowers it again. The boy can’t help to look proud, but at least he’s smart enough to quickly hide his grin. The commander’s reward is an approving nod and a smile behind her hand, that only Clarke sees.

Shortly after, the training session is over. After a few earnest words with Aden, Lexa sends him back to the group around Titus. Handing her staff to one of the warriors, she approaches Clarke, who quickly gets up to meet her at the foot of the small hill.

“Clarke,” Lexa says calmly when she reaches her. “I’m glad you came.”

Clarke only nods. The sweat shining on Lexa’s face and neck renders her mute. Suddenly, her mouth ist very dry.

”He’s getting really good at it,” she manages to get out before awkwardness settles fully. “Got you good there.”

“He still has a lot to learn. I allowed myself to lose focus, it was a foolish mistake. Aden used the moment, like any good fighter should be able to.”

“Did it hurt?”

Lexa looks at her for a moment and then gives her a little smile. Her lip is cracked visibly where Aden hit her. It makes her mouth look lopsided and Clarke thinks about kissing her. Then Lexa tilts her head forward conspiratorially, unaware of Clarke’s thoughts. Hopefully.

“Yes.”

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

That night, when Clarke is in her room preparing for bed, she hears a soft knock on her door. She finds Lexa outside in only a delicate silk nightgown, thin straps holding it on her bare shoulders. It reveals more than it manages to hide and Clarke swallows thickly.

“Commander.” Her voice is shaking, raspy as if she’s never used it before.

“Clarke, I’m sorry to disturb you so late,” Lexa says quietly. “May I come in?”

Clarke steps aside to make room, not missing the long, bare leg that flashes through a long slit in her gown as Lexa walks past her. Clarke freezes, holding on to the door, flustered. It’s only when Lexa turns and gives her a questioning look that she remembers to close it. Clearing her throat, she follows Lexa into the room.

Her mind is racing. Lexa is a very confident woman, not shy at all, and she must be aware of the effect she’s having on Clarke. Why is she here? Clarke takes a few deep breaths and tries to wipe her face clear of any telling signs. They sit down on the couch, keeping a respectful gap between them, with Lexa smiling politely but not saying anything else. Clarke has never seen her like this. She’s seen her in armor, in more casual clothes too but never before in a...nightgown. Part of her brain is still trying to process the fact that  Lexa even owns one. Her hair, combed and shiny, falls in soft waves over exposed, perfectly shaped shoulders. Clarke feels the urge to touch her arm, her leg, her hand, any part of her. Her heart skips a beat at the realization and she has to look down to calm her thundering heart. When she looks back up, she notices a large bruise on Lexa’s temple. Clarke lifts her hand to touch it but stops when she finds Lexa’s eyes studying her curiously.

“He did hit you pretty hard,” Clarke says, dropping her hand back into her lap.

“It looks worse than it is but since you are such a capable healer...” Lexa pauses for an intake of breath, “I thought it wise for you to have a look at it.”

“You came here for me to have a look at your bruise?”

“Would you rather I leave?”

A moment of silence hangs between them, gaining heaviness with each passing second. Finally, Clarke leans forward, carefully pushing Lexa’s hair further back to be able to examine the bruise. She presses it gently with her fingertips, feeling the tense flesh underneath Lexa’s skin. She checks the tissue around the bruise to see if there’s any further damage, leaning in so close that she smells the soap. Lexa finches briefly once but otherwise doesn’t move, her eyes glued to Clarke's face.

“There’s no damage to the bone,” Clarke says when she’s done. “It’ll be tender for a few days but it’s only a bruise that should heal easily.”

She drops her hand in her lap, not knowing where else to put it. She also has no idea where she supposed to look now. She wants to keep looking at Lexa but it’s not an option.

“Only a bruise,“ Lexa repeats slowly. “That’s good. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Finally, Clarke looks up, catching Lexa’s eyes still on her with a new kind of intensity. The image of a sweating Lexa earlier that day pops up in her head and she has to blink away the indecent thoughts that come with it. The way Lexa looks, sitting right here on her couch, isn’t helping.

Clarke shifts, pushing her hands underneath her thighs. If she sits on her hands, they won’t be able to do anything stupid. She still wonders why Lexa showed up like this. The bruise clearly wasn’t the reason. This is a new Lexa. A very different one. Vulnerable and soft, showing Clarke a side of her others will most likely never see. She gives Lexa a crooked smile, still unsure of what to do or say next.

“Clarke-” Lexa starts but she closes her mouth again. She clears her throat, looks at Clarke from underneath her lashes, her lips parted slightly and if Clarke is reading all the signs correctly, she’s supposed to lean forward and kiss the commander. But she’s frozen in her spot, her hands trapped underneath her. She stares at Lexa with wide open eyes, her own words ‘I’m not ready’ echoing in her head along with the image of Lexa’s saddened face as Clarke pulled back from her, sad and disappointed but still accepting Clarke’s decision with grace and regal pride. Clarke can’t do this to her again. Her eyes dart down to Lexa’s lips, wondering what it would be like to feel them on hers, to put her mouth on Lexa’s skin. What Lexa would say if Clarke hooked her finger into the thin string that holds Lexa’s nightgown in place, and slid it from those shapely shoulders? Slipped it further down to reveal what’s underneath.

Lexa watches her closely, her turn now to read the signs Clarke sends out

“Reshop, Heda.” Clarke says, her voice trembling again, to force herself into staying sensible.

A dark shadow passes across Lexa’s beautiful face. She straightens up, nods. And after a pause: “Good night, ambassador.”

Lexa’s voice is soft, the last word barely audible. They both get up and Lexa turns, with Clarke’s eyes following her across the room. She can’t move. Lexa’s strong shoulders have fallen in defeat, her stride no longer smooth and determined, the way it was before. Gone is her commanding presence, replaced by uncertainty in her step and a trembling in her voice that tears at Clarke’s heart.

With a few quick steps Clarke reaches Lexa, taking her hand. Lexa’s eyes are gleaming, hard to tell what it is in the dim light of the candles. Unwilling to think anymore, Clarke leans in to place a small kiss on the commander’s cheek. It’s meant as a promise. Assurance. That she will be ready. And soon.

Lexa’s breath catches at the touch, her fingers curl into Clarke’s hand. She nods again, quietly, and straightens up more. She opens the door and slips through, hesitating only briefly to look down at their hands before letting go.

“I’ll wait.”