STOP! YOU'VE VIOLATED THE LAW-

Indie IDW Prowl, as shitposted by Ocean, will be updated whenever

[best-first]

{ @best-head } Pattapat pat pat.

{ @best-head }

Oh, he is being patted…

Optimus leans over further, almost overbalancing as he presses his big blocky helm into Prowl’s servos.

“Hi.”

[best-head]

He is being patted, yes.

Prowl is not... tall. By any means. There have been larger Cybertronians.

But while this is not the only way to get one's attention, Optimus was a tactile mech. Therefore- patting. Held pushed into his servos, he smoothed his thumbs over Optimus' cheeks with a considering hum. "Would you accompany me on a walk."

[megalomaniatron]

“Why do users on human social media platforms call me a ‘beautiful widow’.”

[best-head]

"Likely after a dangerous species known for killing them."

[megalomaniatron]

“You mean, the little animal BlackArachnia takes after?” Megatron chuckles, far too comfortable with leaning into Prowl’s space. “Or your… conjunx, was it? I’ll consider it a compliment.”

[best-head]

Prowl sniffed, leaned back, just a little, doorwings hiking up high along his back. "My conjunx, Tarantulas. A Tarantula is not a 'true spider', however. A black widow is."

He was playing nice for Optimus. But let Megatron slip, just once.

Give him a reason.

[megalomaniatron]

“Why do users on human social media platforms call me a ‘beautiful widow’.”

[best-head]

"Likely after a dangerous species known for killing them."

[best-head]

Hm. There’s Prowl.

Time to see how long he can get away with just staring at him until Prowl freaks out and tries to hit him.

Prowl does no such thing.

What he does do instead is freeze, plating puffing up to make himself look bigger. He was watching you back, Megatron, with his wings perked to alarmed attention.

[best-head]

Noses at his chevron and generally just gets in the way. Because he loves you.

Optimus, Prowl had come to find over the years, was something like a large dog.

This was his way of showing affection, getting in the way. Prowl just.. has more patience for it, these days. Reaching a servo up to pat at Optimus' arm, he grumbled his engines a little.

"Do you want to hold me?"

[best-first]

“Yes,” Optimus mumbles against the tactician’s audial, busy reacquainting himself with the edge of Prowl’s helm crest for the moment. “I want to hold you. I have somewhere to go, it’s dark and quiet.”

Patting is not explicit permission. He needs to be told yes. Prowl should have a say in the matter, no matter how much Optimus’ messed-up coding howls at him to grab his friend and drag him off to—

He’s not sure what. He hasn’t managed it yet.

[best-head]

"Pick me up," he says, in a way that is somehow both a command and not, lifting his arms up towards Optimus. It was... silly, but a level of silliness was acceptable, and Prowl would allow it.

Besides, vantage wise, it was just easier for Optimus to lift him underneath the arms. However... "You smell different," Prowl murmured, nosing at Optimus is return. He did smell different- sweeter? Strange. He couldn't recall Optimus ever smelling like that.

[best-head]

Noses at his chevron and generally just gets in the way. Because he loves you.

Optimus, Prowl had come to find over the years, was something like a large dog.

This was his way of showing affection, getting in the way. Prowl just.. has more patience for it, these days. Reaching a servo up to pat at Optimus' arm, he grumbled his engines a little.

"Do you want to hold me?"

[best-head]

“PROWL. PROWL?” All is fervent urgency, a sharp edge to Tarantulas’ usually playful voice. “PROWL!”

That is Voice # 3, which is cause for alarm. Tarantulas never uses Voice #3. Prowl turned to give her his full attention, brow furrowing. Camras malfunctioned? Some sort of break in she couldn't handle?

..worse? Code O?

"Which one."

[noiizemaze]

He’s always categorizing everything, damn him (kiss him hold him bite him). How is she meant to neatly encapsulate everything of this mess into a simple framework of fault trees? How can she explain the enormity of the situation when this isn’t the kind of thing someone would ever need to make up a code word for? ‘Sorry, our adult son who I built in a lab has been turned into an infant of our species, somehow!’ sounds stupid.

Harried, she catches herself on the doorframe, mandibles rippling in peevish, flustered agitation.

“I don’t know!” the arachnoid peeps. “Is there an option for non-fatal crisis involving alternative chronological regression? Springer’s— Ostaros! Sort of! Not— he’s not the— Prowl,” she struggles, desperately, to put a description to something borderline miraculous, claws flexing with the effort. “He’s been PINOCCHIO’D. PROWL.”

[best-head]

He's been 'Pinocchio'd' is.. not a code.

Prowl stalled for all of two moments before blinking. He did.. not know what to do with this information. He didn't have a contingency for 'reverted into sparkling', nor was it a situation he ever thought was going to make an appearance because it.. simply did not. Lacing his digits over his bumper, his scowl deepened in thought for a moment or two, before he finally went, "Is Ostaros...alright?"

That was the correct question, right? Was the sparkling alright? ...what was he supposed to do, here? They needed to fuel him. He'd need to rest somewhere.

...sparklings needed toys. He needed to do more research.

"Where is Ostaros? We'll need to set up a feeding staton, toy station, and an area for recharge-"

[best-head]

“PROWL. PROWL?” All is fervent urgency, a sharp edge to Tarantulas’ usually playful voice. “PROWL!”

That is Voice # 3, which is cause for alarm. Tarantulas never uses Voice #3. Prowl turned to give her his full attention, brow furrowing. Camras malfunctioned? Some sort of break in she couldn't handle?

..worse? Code O?

"Which one."

[best-head]

🐈 a cat has appeared. You cannot escape the cat.

Glancing around, Prowl looked around with brow furrowed, and then at the cat.

...still sitting there.

...was it ethical to close the door.

[best-head]

springingfromnothing Peer around a corner.

"If you're going to be around the corner, you may as well come in."

Huff.

[best-head]

He plants himself directly in Prowl’s lap, the mech’s datapad or whatever it is he’s holding shoved to the side. “Hey.”

Nevermind. He should of listened to the feeling.

Items shoved aside, Prowl sighed through his vents, but settled his servos on Rodimus' hips, leaning back in his chair to get comfortable.

"Hello, Rodimus. Did you come to interrupt my work and be a nuisance on purpose or on accident, today?"

[achievedsomething]

“You were s’posed to be off the clock three joor ago, buddy,” Rodimus points out, smug as anything that he remembered to look at the daily planner board this morning. “I know for a fact that you’re not working right now, right? Or else you’re doin’ extracurriculars and I’d be fully in my rights to go and tattle on you.”

Rattrap does NOT send that many emails. There’s no way Prowl needed to sit in here by himself like this after hours.

[best-head]

Prowl does not pout. He is not a pouter. ...but he is coming dangerously close to it, here, with the way his mouth pulls down.

"...I am not working, no."

Which meant he had to reach to lock and turn off the datapad. Damn it. "I am, as always at this hour, free, because that is what is on schedule. ....do you want a snack?" He could get them both a snack, come to think on it. He was a bit peckish. "I could make something to drink."

[best-head]

He plants himself directly in Prowl’s lap, the mech’s datapad or whatever it is he’s holding shoved to the side. “Hey.”

Nevermind. He should of listened to the feeling.

Items shoved aside, Prowl sighed through his vents, but settled his servos on Rodimus' hips, leaning back in his chair to get comfortable.

"Hello, Rodimus. Did you come to interrupt my work and be a nuisance on purpose or on accident, today?"

[best-head]

There's some sort of... lingering sense that something is going to happen.

Prowl frowned. Surely everything was fine? Cameras working, all silent everywhere else..

No. Nothing happening.

[noiizemaze]

{ @best-head } Buries his face in her chassis. No notes. Wife's chest.

{ @best-head }

Tarantulas offers a muttered half-greeting and wraps an arm around Prowl, still mostly focused on the notepad in her other paw. It was the intended use-case for her generously supple and plush plumpness, after all; no reason to remark upon Prowl availing himself of something meant for him.

This close, he can likely hear the contraction-expansion of her artificial heart, pushing hydraulic hemolymph and energon through organs both meat and mechanical. Woom. Woom. Woom.

The longer he stays put, the further Tarantulas curls around him...

[best-head]

This close, he could hear it, the thudding and pulsing of both. He found them.. calming. If he closed his optic, he could lose himself in it for a while, perhaps stave off the oncoming helmache and knead at Tarantula's chassis for the sake of self soothing with the texture of her fur. For a few moments, he simply existed, venting softly against her, fur ruffling against his face as he let air escape his mouth.

As she curled around him, he sagged, drooping a little, and pressed his face a little farther in, nearly engulfed.

He didn't have any assignments. He'd played his little processor games. With nothing left to do, he came for her, content in the silence and dark. It was helpful, even beyond the throbbing behind his optic, the thumping of her energon flooding his own lines that he could feel-

Ah. No, not staving off the helmache, after all. "Tarantulas," he murmured, wincing, "do you have the medication?"

[best-head]

"Hey, so, serious question, do you wanna make out at the bar for free drinks? There's this thing called yaoi and apparently the Camiens go nuts for it--"

Prowl paused for a moment, digit hovering over his datapad.

The pause was pregnant- heavily so, and craving at the very least an explanation from Rodimus Prime, who came in and said whatever he liked for the sake of saying things or at the very least hearing himself talk.

A beat passed, and then another, before he set the datapad down, crossed a leg over the other, servos linking over the top of his bumper.

"Rodimus. Explain... yaoi."

[achievedsomething]

Kind of impressive that Prowl’s arms can reach each other across his voluminous bumper like that. Really just kinda frames the whole lush expanse between his elbow rotators, drawing the optic to the black and white hood detailing. Rodimus is not bothering to disguise either his blatant leering or his delight— Prowl, you sly dog, you’re doing that on purpose, right?

“Yeah, so, how cool are you with gender theory? I mean, I know you’re like, only he/him pronouns because you like consistency or whatever,” he flaps a servo around as if that helps to drive the point home, “But Yaoi is when two ‘male’ oriented figures get it on or, uh, make out at the bar for drinks. Like… Okay, well, most of the couples I know are actually more yuri-coded, so trying to give you an example is tough. Uhh… Look, the Camiens don’t have a ton of ‘male’ he/him masculine dudes on their planet, the way we kinda didn’t have women for a while, and a lot of ‘em are figuring out they’re bisexual?”

That’s so many words that mean literally nothing.

“Yaoi is when Knockout and Breakdown play grabass. Yuri is when Drift and Ratchet slow dance at the clurb.”

[best-head]

If Prowl noticed the leering, he didn't call it out. If was just a comfortable way to rest his servos Rodimus, he might say, if he was going to say anything about the subject.

Instead, his face scrunched as he took this in. 'Male' and 'Female' were really Earth concepts. Prowl didn't care much for the gendered concept- he was an Enforcer frame, which was about as much as he needed to know. But he was.. making an effort to understand and listen more than he had, before. People seemed to like when you listened to them.

"I see. Yaoi is 'male' coded behaviors, and Yuri is 'female' coded.." He ran the part of his processor that could link to the holonet and internet in the background over these terms, nose wrinkling faintly at a few results that came up. ..perhaps he would run it without the.. NSFW results? Another sweep pulled up the history of such terms, why they came about, cultural relevance.

..there was a lot.

"Yaoi is Optimus Prime and Megatron punching each other and Yuri is Cyclonus and Tailgate... being Cyclonus and Tailgate..?" Peer up for confirmation. He was engaged in this conversation. Allow Rodimus to know this with optic contact.

[best-head]

"Hey, so, serious question, do you wanna make out at the bar for free drinks? There's this thing called yaoi and apparently the Camiens go nuts for it--"

Prowl paused for a moment, digit hovering over his datapad.

The pause was pregnant- heavily so, and craving at the very least an explanation from Rodimus Prime, who came in and said whatever he liked for the sake of saying things or at the very least hearing himself talk.

A beat passed, and then another, before he set the datapad down, crossed a leg over the other, servos linking over the top of his bumper.

"Rodimus. Explain... yaoi."

[best-head]

"Would you still love me if I ate all the worms?"

There was a pause, and then a deep, deep sigh.

"You ate all the worms, didn't you."