Second Chapter Of Virgin Widow!

Second Chapter of Virgin Widow! 

Summery: Prowl's and Jazz's families arrange their bonding for business reasons. Prowl works hard to protect the people of his city, but when he goes home he is at the mercy of his family.  Jazz was born in space and is ostracized because of his frame type and appearance.   

Excerpt:

“Captain, are you okay?”

Strongarm again.  He half missed his previous sergeant, Puller, who had the intelligence of an energon goodie and had been quickly promoted above Prowl.

“I have been better,” he said, knowing the triteness would only annoy her.  Sure enough he heard a huff behind him and Strongarm came up beside him.  She knelt next to his chair and waited.

“It was a difficult evening, Strongarm,” he finally said, quietly.  “I am just tired.”

“Is your bonded unkind, sir?”  Prowl turned.  She was half again as tall as he was, even kneeling she could meet his optics.  She looked concerned – actually concerned.

“No.  I’ll probably never meet them.  It was by proxy.  My family is just difficult.”  He had never explained what he meant, but he was certain most of the station had guessed by now.  He’d returned from visits enough times with something bandaged or dented.

But the Praxian Shipping Empire funded the entire Enforcers Corps – no one was going to say anything.

AU August Fic 8

Literal Hell

 “Okay.  So explain this ta me again.  Ya won’t go inta the Well ‘cause ya think ya could’ve done a better job of protecting a city.  An entire CITY.  From an ARMY.”

 “You are misunderstanding on purpose.  I said that I had made systematic mistakes that led to a fault in my methods.  This further led to a gap, a way for corruption to infiltrate the council which directly led to them allowing the Decepticons to target Praxus.”

 “...nope, still sounds insane, mech.  Besides, Primus told me, ya won the war.  Ya got revenge, ya kept it from ever happenin’ again.   It was unfortunate, that shuttle crash, but ya left behind a nice legacy and plenty of happy, safe bots ready to rebuild the planet.  It is now time ta reap your rewards in the Well.  Let’s go.”

 “No.”

 “Ugh…

 “The Pit was created to punish cybertronians that were not punished on Cybertron.  This is where I belong until I have suffered and repented.”

 “Mech, ya sittin’ in the Pit, scarin’ the scrap outta Unicron and all his little minions, and ya think YOU ARE the one that’s sufferin’ down here?  Primus sent me ‘cause he’s too afraid ta come himself.”

 “That is nonsense.  He can just come down here and talk to me reasonably -”

 “Prowler -”

 “Do not call me that.  I do not know you and I do not approve of nicknames.”

 “Yeah, yeah.  Prowlie, it’s no use lookin’ for divine forgiveness down here.  Primus never had ta forgive ya in the first place.”

 “...”

 “Prowl?”

 “It is not His forgiveness I seek.”  

 “...the other bots, the other Praxians don’ blame ya either.”

 “Not theirs either.”

 “Oh.”

 “So you see why I must remain.  It is not a matter of not wanting to be with them.  I could not spend eternity in the Well,      knowing    it was my fault and      knowing    they forgive me.  I - do not ask that of me.”

 “Okay.”

 “What are you doing?”

 “Sounds like it’ll take a long time.  I’ll sit wit’ ya.”

 “Why?”

 “‘Cause it’s a lot an’ ya don’ deserve ta be alone wit’ it all.”

 “...Thank you.”

Prowl stirred his drink as he waited, feeling a mixture of emotions – tight threads of worry constricting his spark, the electric feeling of meeting a friend, and a warmth he couldn’t quite place.  For want of something to do with his servos, he poured in more flakes and watched them swirling in his cube.  The faint glint of the silver flakes in the pale blue energon matched the weather outside.  A thin frost of hydrogen was settling on the street and on the shoulders of the bots passing by the window.

Chapter 2 is up!  If you like it and have the spoons, tell me what you think! 

AU August Fic 1

I posted this on AO3 too!  Same fic

Underwater

Prowl bent down and unhooked his submersible from the thin, rarely used dock.  He looked over his shoulder.  It was mostly deserted.  Good.  He coiled the rope and laid it down.

His family was, even now, petitioning the courts to have him placed under their control care.  He had been put on leave by the Enforcers for “mental health” because they couldn’t write “the stress has finally broken our best detective.”  The papers had taken the story and run with it.

It wasn’t that Prowl thought what he was doing was smart.  He knew it was stupid.  He knew he sounded like a bot on stims.  It was just that he also couldn’t not do it.

He slipped inside the sub.  It was tiny - a secondhand purchase from a local university that studied sea life.  They hadn’t asked any questions and, to his relief, there had been no recognition in their optics.  

Polyhex was a long way from landlocked Iacon.

Prowl typed in the location and the sub cruised along the surface faster than he’d anticipated.  His spark spun faster.  Was it hope or fear?

It should have been fear.  He remembered the sight of the sea below him as the shuttle spiraled down, out of control, one wing gone.

It had been their last attempt to stop him before he made it back to Iacon with the information.  Prowl had known they would try and had requested an empty, unsparked transport shuttle.  He had been careful and secretive, filing his flight plan under another designation, choosing a small, out of the way station to depart from.

He just hadn’t expected his creators to resort to shooting him out of the sky.  That had been a surprise.

Surviving the crash had been another surprise.  Not necessarily a more pleasant, as he immediately began to sink beneath the crushing, suffocating waves, trapped inside the shattered shuttle.

His processor had encoded the memory of the moments after the crash oddly.  He had flashes of intense detail - the chill of the sea, the beeping of the console as it was flooded, and the smell of energon mixing with the frothing sea - but none of them were connected.

The next thing he could properly remember was being towed on his back by someone.  He had bits and pieces of that journey and then - nothing.  A single, crystal clear picture of a face above his own haunted his recharge.  Then the sounds of the rescue team.

He had stumbled back into his life and, wide-opticked, he’d told them about his savior.  A handsome mech with wings on his sides - as thin as wire and as flexible as gold - and his legs fused into a single, powerful tail with another flexible wing twice as large as him.  Prowl remembered it curling over them, diffusing the light, as a curious face smiled down at him.

Everyone told him it had been a hallucination.  The crash, the results of his mission for the Prime, the near drowning - it had made sense.  For a while, Prowl had wanted to believe that he’d imagined it too.  There was no sentient life in the seas - no wheels spinning up sand on the bottom, no bots walking amongst the foil seagrass, no strange bots with tails.

But he remembered…

Clever webbed servos…

A voice humming a soothing lullaby as Prowl struggled to stay above the surface…

The gentle press of a helm against his shoulder before the warmth withdrew…

The sub beeped.  Arrived at destination.  

He was over the trench now.  Directly above the spot where his shuttle, broken and betrayed, had settled on the bottom.

It was his last chance to change his mind.

“Gotcha, mech, I gotcha.  Don’ worry.”

Prowl pressed the button and the sub began to sink.

The mech had been real.  He’d saved Prowl’s life.

He was real and Prowl was going to find him.

Wait...wait...I can do all of them.  Yes, that will work.

Playing catch-up

Yesterday was Fairies and I’m STRUGGLING.

Do I want Prowl going to a fairy circle to make a deal?  If anyone could make an air-tight deal, it would be him.

Do I want Jazz, changling child, music lover who never loses a game of chance?

Do I want Prowl, always accused of being a changling, meeting Jazz (actual fae) at the market?

I don’t know!

I swear I’m working on Warring Houses.   

Excerpt for proof:

“Bitlet, why is your lip bleeding?”  On the screen, Prowl stood up from his chair and leaned forwards to get a better look.

“Are you injured, Red Alert?” he asked with concern.  

“I hit it when I was hiding,” he said.  He lifted a servo and touched the sore spot.  His fingers came away shiny with energon.

“What were ya hidin’ from?”

Crash!

Shattered glass and energon on the ground.

“Run!”