Living that cryptid life

The Combaticon purrs as he watches rage burn off Blaze's face, and he aims to lean in for another aggressive kiss before a hard impact hits his face, forcing his helm to smack into the wall behind him and release his death grip hold on Blaze. He groans, sounding like a mix between delight and pain, and lifts a servo up to examine the damage on his face plating.

Vortex feels his olfactory sensor is dented and leaking, and his visor is broken, displaying unreadable warnings. He laughs as he licks off some of the blood when his claws find a few cracks in his plating. "I'm not done with you yet." He pulls away from the wall, knowing that Blaze was not paying attention when he turns to see the mech moving away.

Emotions were swirling around his processor in such a way it felt as though it was playing a game of spin the wheel to see what the winner would be.

"Do you hear me?!" He nearly stumbles as he stands in the middle of the alley, his laughter getting louder. Ignoring the pink slightly obscuring his vision, or perhaps he was just seeing blood, he stares down the path Blaze went down before throwing his helm back, laughing maniacally into the night.

"I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU YET!"

#ic #helicrazy #[Plot] The Gala #the end

He could only imagine what Vortex would do just to see an emotion Blaze thought was never possible around him.

Fear.

A cold shiver runs down his spine, his back plates flaring to their highest point without much prompting from his consciousness. All what Vortex sees is Blaze briefly offering him a passing glance over the shoulder; the glint in his optic barely revealing his bubbling anxiety beneath the surface.

Just what has he attracted?

And why?

Blaze doesn't chance it anymore. Dazed as he may appear, Vortex can and will try to go after him. So Blaze goes where only a few dare to go — down into the sewers. So much for spending all that time trying to get his frame looking polished for once. His safety matters more.

Out of Vortex's sight, he finds the nearest sewer entrance big enough for him to fit through and off Blaze disappears into the night.

And hopefully, this is truly the last time their paths have crossed.

One moment, Vortex is grinning, his frame rigid, preparing to take impacts as he keeps his arms at his side, showing no signs of defending himself even against those sharp knuckles of Blaze's. He was prepared for a beating, having been for the past couple of months, knowing it was only a matter of time before Blaze was pushed past his limits with the Combaticon.

This, however, was not on his bingo card, and he hadn't even considered the two of them being in any situation as close to what they were doing now.

At least not consensually anyway.

A flush of emotions flows through Vortex, yet his arms wrap around Blaze to hold him in a tight embrace like he was with him, returning the kiss in the same harshness. It's a battle of denta and glossas as blood is drawn from both sides. The sight alone is enough to make the mechs who accidentally witnessed it step back inside.

He senses a questionable pulse through the bond and blocks the connection, refusing to let the others feel his conflicted emotions.

Vortex's claws dig into Blaze's plating, and the moment Blaze goes to pull away, he snags his dermas with his denta, purring elegantly. His visor flashes as he bites down, ensuring to leave a nasty and noticeable mark before he releases Blaze's dermas.

"Are you still going to say that I initiated this too?" He leans in close, pulling Blaze in so their frames press together, and continues in a taunting tone while slanting his helm and grinning. "Primus Blaze, you can't pull something like that and expect me to never seek you out again. That's not how an enemy relationship works."

Both of their bloods coat each other faces, its strong taste assaulting Blaze's senses. He could keep on going, bite down on that neck and drain him dry—

Snap out of it.

"Delusional." He growls and checks his surrounding, optics drifting from one end of the alleyway to the other. It was empty, almost boring, with no unwilling audience in sight. He shoves his forearm against Vortex's neck, pressing.

"Shut it." Those sharp dentae practically glisten in this night light. "I don't owe you a single explanation. I don't owe you anything." He tries to pull away again, but with Vortex clutching him tightly, he gets nowhere.

With a frustrated huff, Blaze finally resorts to what he wanted to do this entire night. It is at least an appetizer: a firm headbutt square into Vortex's face, hard enough he's heard a faint crack. He worms himself out from the perverse embrace, shuddering at the realization the phantom feeling will remain for the remainder of the night.

Just what has he gotten himself into?

"Do not come crawling back to me ever again." Blaze cuts the conversation short, swallowed by the need to flee into the night and hopefully never cross paths with him again.

alpha113nredshirteradicon

Allen stands there an awe as the projection fills their immediate space. Some places on the map are familiar. He knows Cybertron. He could see all the places Blaze has traveled. It was very impressive! And yet, on the larger map, it seems he's barely seen a thing. One could spend a lifetime exploring the galaxy.

"My life experience was being thrown onto Shockwave's lab table and having my spark and processor ripped out and thrown into this frame and being cloned a billion times. Obviously, I've thought of leaving it all behind; we all have. But this war just does not end. Our kind ruins everything we touch, and eventually everything on your map will be claimed. I will be found; I would be a traitor, a deserter, and I'd be put to death. So my outcome is death no matter what. If I take you, I can live another day, and you can figure out what to do once you're on the Nemesis."

Arguing with a mech that just wants to continue living his best life, one who isn't an enemy and isn't fighting, all goes against his moral fiber. He hates it. He feels like a cybercat being pet the wrong way. It's gross, and he hates it. But someone like him doesn't get a choice.

Allen waves a hand and orders the others to attack Blaze. He is the closest to the mech, so he aims to grab the mech's wrist. If Blaze wanted out of the situation, he'd have to go out blazing. And Allen would give him the chance to escape; he just had to make it look convincing that they failed. Hopefully no one would die.

#ic #alpha113nredshirteradicon #[au] tfp

It's like arguing with a brick wall.

It didn't seem to just go through the Eradicon's helm.

He wanted to say something more, to keep shedding the light on the truth — the truth the likes of Megatron weren't willing to hear. The war he thought he had been waging was long over. The messages had long become lost, along with the spark to keep going.

Most had moved on, with only the most delusional keeping the flame lit.

What was Blaze meant to do? Kidnap the guy and take him on a forced vacation?

... It was tempting.

He allowed Allen to grab his wrist and for the others to get closer, taking a few hits or two that were aiming to stun him. But Blaze being Blaze would not just go down easily.

True to his name, his whole frame erupted into flames, thanks to his self-combustion mod. The heat produced reached blistering hot temperatures within seconds and like some fiery deity he barged through the squad like a hot knife through butter. Still flaming, he transformed and took off, leaving behind a blazing trail for the rest to follow.

:: I can't even begin to think how sheltered you are all to think everyone is still fighting. :: His voice in the open comm. line was laced with depths of repressed anger. :: And you can consider yourself lucky being nothing but fodder; nobody would be looking for a deserter of your rank once this is all over. ::

Blaze may have his contacts and his own reputation, but he didn't spend the last million years creating an image like Vortex had. Anyone who knew Vortex kept their distance and avoided those he had his claws in, and the ones who never heard of the Combaticon needed only to hear stories to put that fear in them.

Plus, being under a mech like Onslaught, the current leader of Cybertron, had its perks, like being able to take part in events like this and parade himself as the danger he is.

A gasp -fake to those around who heard the claws scrap against Blaze's plating as he pulled his arm free- escapes Vortex, and he holds his servo as if it were just slapped away.

"Why can't you?" He retorts, rubbing his servo. "You blame me for everything, yet some days you tolerate me, and like right now, you act like nothing is going on between us." Vortex vents as his arms move to rest on his hips. A faint grin gives away how much he was enjoying this amongst a crowd.

"Although I suppose it's easier to point a digit at me than it is at yourself, isn't it?"

The unbridled violence within him has been boiling the entire night. All it takes is eyesight off the pot for one second to long for it to spill over the rim.

The same words used against him are enough.

"As if you hadn't started all of it." And no amount of retorting would convince Blaze otherwise. Vortex has brought nothing but misery to him since that faithful day in that town square. He should have been smarter. He should have excused himself the second Vortex spoke to him.

Here he is now, dragging Vortex outside in the darkness of a narrow alleyway and away from prying optics.

Blaze unceremoniously slams him against a wall and presses his forearm against the top of his chest to hold him in place. "Listen here — you initiated this whole thing, you kept on stalking me and you kept on kidnapping me and even holding me hostage. None of this my blame and if you dare to suggest it's all because I'm irresistible or that kind of bullshit, you are dead fucking wrong—"

The same doors they barged through open, a group of mechs looking for their space to have a smoke. The sight of Blaze's raised fist with those sharp knuckles aimed right at Vortex wouldn't do him no good, no matter how brief of a moment it is.

So, acting on an impulse, he commits to the one thing guaranteed to drive anyone away.

Blaze practically slams his face into Vortex's, mouths connecting and teeth drawing blood from the others lips. Body presses into him and those arms move to embrace and trap Vortex more and a knee is pressed right in-between his legs.

To the onlooking group, it all looks the way they exactly think it is.

What they don't see is that this scene looks more like a pirahnna attempting for a gentle kiss with its razor sharp teeth.

Vortex huffs as his claws nearly draw blood from the amount of pressure he was pressing into Blaze's armor upon hearing that ugly label. Again. He needed to let the other know that this was something that wasn't going to last forever.

The teal copter ignored Onslaught's question through private comms and told him to go enjoy the rest of the event without having to worry about what he was doing for one night. He was met with a push through the bond, an order to either drop Blaze or leave the area immediately if he wasn't going to do his job.

Fine. So be it.

"Oh, how about we don't?" Vortex replies with a pat to Blaze's arm, showing that his grip isn't going to loosen any time soon as he leans in to glare through his visor at him. "If you think saying that will get me to drop this act, after everything we've been through, you're better off just punching me right here right now." Another yank is given as he walks forward.

"Besides, you act like you're embarrassed to be at my side. What's the matter? Don't like being shown off?"

There is a different set of optics found in each sector of the venue. Its centerpiece is the bar, its heart, with all sorts of mechs passing by. The upstairs lets the most elite retreat to privacy, while commoners reside on the ground floor, congregating based on rank and connection.

Blaze debates whether he should even describe them as commoners; even they are leagues above an average salary worker.

Where Vortex drags him should be obvious. Blaze could barely call those Decepticon badges hidden, each displayed in such a manner that at a first glance, you miss it. Only later you are bound to notice it.

Without a doubt, those, whose gaze linger, are Vortex's personal connections; and he's parading Blaze to them like some trophy.

"It should be obvious why I don't want to cause a scene." He has so much to lose this way, as if he hasn't already lost enough with Vortex breathing on his neck the second he noticed him.

"Just—" He halts in his tracks and rips his arm free from the grip. "—just what are you getting out of this, Vortex? What's the end goal? Why can't you move on?"

His rotors rotate up to avoid them landing in an awkward position when he lands on the surface.

The Combaticon simply giggles as claws grab Blaze by the chassis. "You are so horrible." Is all that's said before he brings Blaze's face close to his-

And helm-butts him.

It hurts, it sends rolling onto his back but he figures he can make it work.

So often, he pins Vortex to the ground to gain the victory. This time, he switches up the tactics.

Staying where he is, he grapples after Vortex to pull him in, trapping him in a tight, wrestler embrace and trying to get an arm around the neck to cut off his bloodflow.

He may be bottoming.

But he is in charge.

#ic #helicrazy

polyhexianchicken

"Like fRAGhhg I'm doing that you good foR nothing Glitch!" Whirl wheezes through the literal volcano erruption that is his throat, obnoxiously emitting a flurry of raspy, painful sounding groans through the coughing. About halfway through Blaze's cackling does the contagiousness of it finally hit Whirl, the mech quieting for a brief glorious moment before starting to snicker, then chuckle before his iconic manic cackle is in full swing.

Bet the bar is having a field day listening to those two.

In his own fit of laughter he fails to notice he is still holding on to the Prowl, his shaking arm causing the drink to spill and slosh out towards Blaze's side. Frag, he can't believe this slag, he got betrayed by a stupid drink! His favorite drink at that, one he's been ordering for literal centuries. No wonder Blaze always gave him such a look as well as any waiter. That could kill a mech.

Not Whirl though, he is better than that. The plain energon at least does somewhat make him feel better, he chugs the whole cube before slamming it down with an indignant huff.

"Wow Blaze, some bastard of a friend you are, you let me order the Prowl all this time and not once did you slap it out of my servos! You just were waiting to see me suffer from it eventually, ADMIT IT!"

He almost growls- all in good fun though of course, it is their banter after all of teasing and riling eachother up, even if it sounds like a threat to anyone else listening in.

Blaze's toothy smile couldn't get any wider.

All those years of knowing Whirl and he's finally got the message through that stubborn mech's helm: the drink Prowl has been nothing but a vile sludge the entire time.

He will mark this day in his calendar and bring it up to Whirl on an annual basis from this point on.

"Oh, Whirl," he shakes his helm, bemused, "just how many times had I warned you not to order it? I've lost count at this point." He toasts his own drink to nobody in particular and chugs it all down, basking in this small but rewarding victory.

This little moment; it reminds him of something.

"A very funny thing is that a long time ago, I used to go bar hopping with a friend." He begins his reminiscing, seeing that Whirl is now through the worst of it. "Like, pre-war era. I was studying at the Jhiaxus academy back then."

Why does it all feel so familiar? The warm lights of this bar, the furnishing that somehow have survived 'til this day, their table...

Like he's revisiting a memory. A very vivid one.

"I won't go deep into the whys of how I'd winded in that academy, but a part of that lifestyle was writing essays. Boy, how I hated it." He rolls his optics at the thought of all those sleepless nights. "But this friend, I guess, he had nothing better to do in his free time, so he would write them for me — in exchange for drinks, heh."

Claws absent-mindedly tap against the table.

"I wonder what happened to him. One day he didn't answer my calls and messages. It was all very sudden."

#ic #polyhexianchicken

Vortex weakly smiles as his visor dims.

"Your insufferable lover, honey cup."

And in a spark-beat, he slams his knee joint in between Blaze's legs.

And that's how you start it.

He grips onto his helm, pushing through the pain, his trademark huffing accompanying his suffering.

"Right back at you, my glazed donut."

He goes for a grapple to slam him to the ground.

#ic #helicrazy

Hooks a single claw in Vortex armor and pulls him in closer.

He feels so light headed by that single action alone, yet purrs as his rotors twitch.

"Hi Blaze~"

He puts his servos on the sides of Vortex's face.

"What are you?"

#ic #helicrazy

Onslaught's time at the Gala went from being pleasant to nearly throwing the luxurious glass of high-grade he was holding against the wall in a matter of seconds. He managed to channel the rage by clenching his free servo into a fist and controlling himself with a much-needed heavy vent.

Vortex wasn't creating any trouble, but he certainly had his arms wrapped around it while answering the mech's question with a very excited yes. Something Onslaught believed he wouldn't have to deal with ever again.

"I thought you two broke up?" Onslaught stares back at Blaze, though the question is aimed at Vortex, making it clear that he was not helping; he simply wanted to ensure his comrade was kept in check.

"Nah, we worked things out." Vortex answers before looking at the other mech. "Blaze here was dealing with a broken joint in his leg. It put him in a sour mood and made our relationship a little rocky, but after a little break we decided to hook up again." He pulls Blaze closer to bump their helms together, his claws hooking into the arm plating like fangs biting down.

"Aw, well..." The mech raises their glass. "A happy recovery to a happy reunion; you two look adorable together."

Vortex giggles as he peers at Blaze to feast on his tragedy. "How is the leg doing, Blazey?"

#ic #helicrazy #[plot] The Gala

It isn't surprising in the slightest Onslaught would be of no help here. It boggles the mind the mech even allows Vortex to face no repercussions for almost anything he does; and something tells him it has been this way for decades.

It's down to Blaze to engineer a way out of this situation, cover up his tracks and stay out of the mech's radar for more long months.

... But there is one more thing he realises.

A certain quirk that's hard to forget about this sadist.

"My leg..." He glances down at it and his smile takes on a wry note. "It's been doing wonderful, babygirl."

The stranger merely laughs at the nickname, blissfully unaware of the Pandora's box cracking open right in front of them. "You guys are cute. I'll leave you to it," they depart with Onslaught in tow, who couldn't help but notice a ripple through the gestalt bond.

As for Blaze?

That crooked sneer is all directed at Vortex.

"How about we... also get on our evening? Seperately?"

Hey Blaze, when are you and Vortex going to get married?

He doesn't appear to have an answer for that...

#ic #asks #anonymous

oldmemesandhelpandthings-gone

↖ is now accepting curious anons.

ask anything you want to know about the muse(s)!

Blaze didn't need to explain; it was a question Vortex already knew the answer to. He simply enjoyed watching Blaze unable to fight back with his servos, instead having to endure a proper conversation with someone he despised.

Hell, the Combaticon almost didn't feel like drinking anymore, as the amount of hatred burning through those pretty gold optics was enough to intoxicate him.

Vortex hums as he pushes himself away from the pillar to follow Blaze, refusing to release the catch he so miraculously snagged. To ensure he couldn't go too far, he wraps his arm around the one Blaze was using to hold the drink. "Now, now, you don't have to be such a downer. This is supposed to be a special event after all." He purrs, keeping his grip on the arm tight, making it impossible for Blaze to pull free without creating a scene.

Every second he's in Blaze's personal space is another, more satisfying achievement for Vortex.

"Besides…" Vortex claims as he forcibly yet carefully yanks Blaze to the left, moving further into the crowd so that more optics were on them. "This is a perfect opportunity to get to know each other without a physical fight getting between us, don't you think?" He asks before setting his drink on a table so he can lean into Blaze, and place his servo on the arm being held.

"It was special until you showed up..."

He considers himself quite impressed by his ability not to give into his impulse to self-combust and leave. The ramifications of such an outburst would grant him permanent ostracization from future events like these; important places to network and connect and expand his business prowess.

Even the elites sneak around the law to get their deliveries done quick and fast.

Vortex is his shackle, the weight trapping him in the spotlight. He resorts to brooding in silence, senses attuned to any sign Vortex's grip on him is loosening. Alas, his hopes are dashed in an instant when a voice cuts through the crowd and a figure approaches them...

... With Onslaught not far behind.

The painfully oblivious mech regards Vortex with a smile going from audial to audial. "Oh, you must be Vortex! Onslaught has just mentioned you."

They extend a servo for a handshake after which their optics drift to Blaze. With a surprised gasp and apparently without any self-awareness what they're about to cause, they speak: "Is this your date, Vortex?"

Blaze doesn't just want to self-combust. He wants to vaporize himself.

But all he can do is to glare at Onslaught and hope his pained expression would persuade him to do something.

Falls out of nowhere straight onto his pedes right in front of anyone passing by.

And stares.

#ic

Vortex felt as though he had entered a candy store and found the rarest item no one had ever touched. So pristine, almost as if it were in mint condition just for him, making his claws twitch at the thought of touching it, yet at the same time he didn't want to ruin its beauty.

The Combaticon almost misses Blaze's question, believing his audials were glitching, since he didn't expect him to say anything at all. Blaze's words were so smooth, yet Vortex could see the anger right through them.

It was fragging adorable.

"Blazey~" Vortex purrs as he leans his arm holding the drink against a pillar, half tipsy and seductively. "Ons is having a whatchamacallit thing happening; I'm just here to keep trouble like you at bay." He giggles before pressing a claw against Blaze's chassis. Lightly. Carefully, avoiding damage to the goods.

"The more important question is, where have you been? No comms or messages for months, and my contacts can't find a single crumb of you anywhere?" He blows air out of his vents and takes a swig of the drink.

"I love this playing hard-to-get game of yours, though, don't get me wrong. Almost feels like edging until I see you again and explode."