Blaster/Prowl
Untitled, by: Xyopea
Rated: PG-13 just in case
Disclaimer: No matter how much I want to, not a single screw of
Transformers belong to me. Hasbro and the Japanese own them.
A/N: I'm new to this pairing. Don't shoot.
Untitled, by: Xyopea
Rated: PG-13 for drugs and anything implied
A/N: I’m new to this pairing. Don’t shoot.
On the first look there was nothing that you had that I could possibly want. You were cold, you were never on the first place on the “whom to invite to a party” list, you spent more time in your office than any sane mech should. Not to mention your obsession with being in control, both of your surroundings and your own body. So why couldn’t I tear my optics from you?
Could it be because every time Ratchet and the Twins united to create a new high grade mix you could say what was missing in the flavor by taking the smallest sip, while looking as serious as your faceplates allowed? Or maybe it was that no matter how much you hunted the Twins for their pranks, they brought you their best ideas to use as security additions?
I have friends during parties. They laugh and dance, and then the light goes out and I’m left with my cassettes and honestly, I feel forgotten. I often wonder- if they could survive without me, would they abandon me too? And you… you shrug the invitations off, you lock yourself in your office, you choose reports over conversations, and yet the finest mechs of this base offer you the first cube in the mess hall. I mean, look at Jazz, leaving the party to make sure you got your rest. And Bluestreak, getting that dreamy look when your wings twitch in irritation. Primus, I think that if you’d ever consider looking for a bonded, half the base will run off to different directions, to find flowers, Shaolin movies and anything else you might desire.
Fine, I’ll admit it. I, Blaster, music master and the king of parties envy Prowl’s self control and his ability to get exactly what he wants without even trying.
“Thinking of him again?” Steeljaw’s voice broke my gloomy thoughts.
“I guess I am. Why do you ask?”
“You’re my creator and it’s my duty to care for your wellbeing. And you’re been too quiet lately.”
I should have followed Soundwave’s example and made the feline cassette mute. I regret this thought immediately.
“I guess I’ve just had a lot on my processor.”
“Why don’t you just tell him that you love him?”
“I don’t. If anything, he’s annoying the Pits out of me.”
“By doing what?”
I find myself spilling my spark out to my creation when in fact things should be the other way.
Steeljaw, as expected doesn’t have an answer for me. He’s a good spy- a great listener and a great ability to make the whole picture given the data, but with missing pieces he’s inefficient. Still, he’s a good creation, so he tries to help.
“So, if he’s always in control, why does Prowl avoid situations where control can be lost?”
“That’s it!” I cry out. “Prowl never takes more than a single sip of high grade, he never places himself in emotional conflicts such as courting, he stays away from situations of social pressure… I think we’ve just found a way to make him less perfect.”
Later that week, I gather my three most trusted cassettes for a mission which is more important to me than anything Prime ever ordered. Steeljaw doesn’t like this one bit and neither do Eject and Rewind, but they know better than say it openly. They owe me this much.
We set a time for a party, approved by Prime, and I ask for Prowl’s presence there. Before the tactician objects, I tell him that if nothing else, he an be a chaperone, to keep the Twins from publicly molesting Bluestreak. That does the trick and Prowl grouchily agrees to join the social event.
Every Autobot who isn’t on duty was invited to the party. When Prowl disgraces himself, I want to be sure everyone sees that.
On a cue from me, Eject and Rewind started a small fight and ‘accidentally’ knocked Prowl’s cube from the table. He berated them and they looked ashamed, whether it was good acting about the fight or about the deed they were covering for. Then, true to the plan, Steeljaw approached Prowl, apologized for his rowdy siblings and offered Prowl a fresh cube, which looked just like the mid- grade the tactician always drinks. Frankly, it IS mid-grade, just with something extra in it, nothing toxic or dangerous. All the drug is supposed to do is to knock Prowl’s famous battle computer and inhibitions down a notch, for a couple of hours. From my position by the sound system I watch his optics come alight with a flow of emotions he’s no longer capable of controlling. Any moment now, I whisper to myself…
Prowl rises from his seat and joins the crowd on the dance floor and it was then I realized that I was wrong. I envied his control and calmness. But as I watched him move, with the perfectly practiced ease, I saw that I envied all the wrong traits. He glided perfectly, placing flirting touches on those around him. His lips moved with the lyrics of the song.
I’ve succeeded in my plan- all optics were now on Prowl. But without his battle processor, making him wary and suspicious of everything, without his inhibitions that kept him proper and restrained, he was now social and open. Now, all I could do was watch. Watch as he laughed at something Jazz said, watch him teasingly instruct the Twins what exactly Bluestreak’s doorwings were good for and offer them to practice on him, watch him pet Steeljaw and congratulate him on ‘whatever that great stuff in that cube was’. And I realized that my feelings before were of adoration, not envy. But now, I had new things to envy.
I envied those Twins for touching him, I envied Jazz for making him laugh. I envied my own creations for being able to make him happy.
I, Blaster, admit loving Prowl. I admit admiring him. And I envy his ability to turn anything to his advantage.
Rated: PG-13 just in case
Disclaimer: No matter how much I want to, not a single screw of
Transformers belong to me. Hasbro and the Japanese own them.
A/N: I'm new to this pairing. Don't shoot.
Untitled, by: Xyopea
Rated: PG-13 for drugs and anything implied
A/N: I’m new to this pairing. Don’t shoot.
On the first look there was nothing that you had that I could possibly want. You were cold, you were never on the first place on the “whom to invite to a party” list, you spent more time in your office than any sane mech should. Not to mention your obsession with being in control, both of your surroundings and your own body. So why couldn’t I tear my optics from you?
Could it be because every time Ratchet and the Twins united to create a new high grade mix you could say what was missing in the flavor by taking the smallest sip, while looking as serious as your faceplates allowed? Or maybe it was that no matter how much you hunted the Twins for their pranks, they brought you their best ideas to use as security additions?
I have friends during parties. They laugh and dance, and then the light goes out and I’m left with my cassettes and honestly, I feel forgotten. I often wonder- if they could survive without me, would they abandon me too? And you… you shrug the invitations off, you lock yourself in your office, you choose reports over conversations, and yet the finest mechs of this base offer you the first cube in the mess hall. I mean, look at Jazz, leaving the party to make sure you got your rest. And Bluestreak, getting that dreamy look when your wings twitch in irritation. Primus, I think that if you’d ever consider looking for a bonded, half the base will run off to different directions, to find flowers, Shaolin movies and anything else you might desire.
Fine, I’ll admit it. I, Blaster, music master and the king of parties envy Prowl’s self control and his ability to get exactly what he wants without even trying.
“Thinking of him again?” Steeljaw’s voice broke my gloomy thoughts.
“I guess I am. Why do you ask?”
“You’re my creator and it’s my duty to care for your wellbeing. And you’re been too quiet lately.”
I should have followed Soundwave’s example and made the feline cassette mute. I regret this thought immediately.
“I guess I’ve just had a lot on my processor.”
“Why don’t you just tell him that you love him?”
“I don’t. If anything, he’s annoying the Pits out of me.”
“By doing what?”
I find myself spilling my spark out to my creation when in fact things should be the other way.
Steeljaw, as expected doesn’t have an answer for me. He’s a good spy- a great listener and a great ability to make the whole picture given the data, but with missing pieces he’s inefficient. Still, he’s a good creation, so he tries to help.
“So, if he’s always in control, why does Prowl avoid situations where control can be lost?”
“That’s it!” I cry out. “Prowl never takes more than a single sip of high grade, he never places himself in emotional conflicts such as courting, he stays away from situations of social pressure… I think we’ve just found a way to make him less perfect.”
Later that week, I gather my three most trusted cassettes for a mission which is more important to me than anything Prime ever ordered. Steeljaw doesn’t like this one bit and neither do Eject and Rewind, but they know better than say it openly. They owe me this much.
We set a time for a party, approved by Prime, and I ask for Prowl’s presence there. Before the tactician objects, I tell him that if nothing else, he an be a chaperone, to keep the Twins from publicly molesting Bluestreak. That does the trick and Prowl grouchily agrees to join the social event.
Every Autobot who isn’t on duty was invited to the party. When Prowl disgraces himself, I want to be sure everyone sees that.
On a cue from me, Eject and Rewind started a small fight and ‘accidentally’ knocked Prowl’s cube from the table. He berated them and they looked ashamed, whether it was good acting about the fight or about the deed they were covering for. Then, true to the plan, Steeljaw approached Prowl, apologized for his rowdy siblings and offered Prowl a fresh cube, which looked just like the mid- grade the tactician always drinks. Frankly, it IS mid-grade, just with something extra in it, nothing toxic or dangerous. All the drug is supposed to do is to knock Prowl’s famous battle computer and inhibitions down a notch, for a couple of hours. From my position by the sound system I watch his optics come alight with a flow of emotions he’s no longer capable of controlling. Any moment now, I whisper to myself…
Prowl rises from his seat and joins the crowd on the dance floor and it was then I realized that I was wrong. I envied his control and calmness. But as I watched him move, with the perfectly practiced ease, I saw that I envied all the wrong traits. He glided perfectly, placing flirting touches on those around him. His lips moved with the lyrics of the song.
I’ve succeeded in my plan- all optics were now on Prowl. But without his battle processor, making him wary and suspicious of everything, without his inhibitions that kept him proper and restrained, he was now social and open. Now, all I could do was watch. Watch as he laughed at something Jazz said, watch him teasingly instruct the Twins what exactly Bluestreak’s doorwings were good for and offer them to practice on him, watch him pet Steeljaw and congratulate him on ‘whatever that great stuff in that cube was’. And I realized that my feelings before were of adoration, not envy. But now, I had new things to envy.
I envied those Twins for touching him, I envied Jazz for making him laugh. I envied my own creations for being able to make him happy.
I, Blaster, admit loving Prowl. I admit admiring him. And I envy his ability to turn anything to his advantage.