Hey I wanted to say that your constructicons/prowl fic idea has totally infested my brain. Being trapped underground. Prowl's already having Thoughts and I am HERE for it.
Anyways I wanted to let you know that I love your ideas!! Theyre so good. Thank you for sharing them. I enjoyed them immensely!!
Oh yes! Thank you❤️ I haven't been thinking about it much recently since I've been writing a few other things, but I'll definitely get some more chapter prompt/outlines down!
It is a work I plan on getting to eventually (planning is not my forte) I hope I can get a chapter out later next month for them❤️❤️
I don't even have the motivation to finish this, I've been rewriting the ending for forever.. I have nobody to ramble to but myself, and my apple fritter..
I hate it so so much! I think it's too fast paced, there was a beginning that got into the thing but I had to delete it.. I can barely look at it.. the punctuation is so bad, the words are repetitive. Send help..
I'm addicted to a series I haven't even written yet.. like what. Anyways have a prompt for the 3rd chapter which is just the baseline pretty much.. it feels so much longer.
Either I'll start this slow series or pump a Zetasen fic, the prompt just being collaring and valve eating so.. we're getting there.
Previous
ISNT PROWL SO BEAUTIFUL THOUGH?? I- sigh..
Prowl awoke once more feeling better, the drug only lingering in the back of his processor now, he'd been sat on a metal crate in the anclove and there was loud roaring of engines and heavy machinery outside. Just barely able to see blurrs of green some ways out from the now drafty cove. The cold breeze rolling against dull wings.
The loud machery echoing along the dark walls and blaring growls occasionally, Longhaul and Scavenger working to get the rubble to one side. Mixmaster on his own deeper down where they were originally mining for energon on his own, Scrapper and Bonecrusher were doing most of the digging and crushing while Hook oversaw and Watched Prowl from the edge of the anclove. Leaving the cop alone as he trudged down to where Mixmaster was rambling on to himself.
As the loud sounds got overstimulating Prowl found himself getting up from the crate, wobbly from the lack of stability his doorwings would allow. Coated in another layer of specially refined energon that Hook probably mixed up with some more of that sticky oil to keep it as a servomade coating, thankfully it did work, somewhat.
Walking over to the rather large entrance to the anclove, overseeing the constructicons working away at tough rock. The medic and chemist mining out energon with ease as they've been doing for who knows how long now, they'd been positioned to dig here for months now. When was the last time they were even above ground?
Mixmaster and Hook, spotted the white sparkle of Prowl in their optics almost immediately. One arm on the wall as he was regaining his bearings, still lacking stabilization. Just watching the other 4 (Scrapper, Bonecrusher, Scavenger, Longhaul) trudge around the progress they'd made. Noting their proficiency, tac-net spurring on about their progress. Estimating how long it'll take to get out at this pace, varying from solar-cycles to many mega-cycles.
Not after long the noise quieted down as a large pile of rubble formed where Longhaul was dumping it all, it seems they were taking a break.. Mix and Hook had told the others Prowl was up now.
Concluding work for now the other four transformed back and stretched some, Scavenger followed Scrapper to Prowl as Hook and Mixmaster stood behind the Unknowing cop who was fighting a processor ache.
Scavenger and and Bonecrusher were ordered to go pick up the mined raw energon, Longhaul was already in the anclove and steaming from going back and forth an entire solar-cycle. Scrapper, Mix and Hook towered over the cop who was not exactly supposed to be up, doctor's orders but it's not like he was told specifically. Not that Prowl would listen to Hook, who knows what that maniac did while rustling inside his chassis.
Hook brushed a servo against shiny doorwings that glistened from the protective coat he'd applied, feeling over to make sure it held up. In response the cop hitched his doorwings up with a sharp pain, very aware of his own space now as he backed away from the looming 'cons who watched him with distain and.. interest.
Scrapper asked how he was holding up, trying to coax any words from Prowl. Testing if he was stable and all there in the head which Prowl replied with his arms crossed, glaring at the 'cons who he was barely trusting but so far they haven't done anything bad.. apart from being invasive.
They spoke back and forth, Prowl giving them numbers and a comment on their efficiency.
Prime and Megatron worked together very rarely but it still happened, what's the worst that could happen if they had their own little team up until they got out but it was clear they were hiding something. Prowl knew they wouldn't let him go once they got out, he'd have time to plan with an injury like this. Prone to tripping or migraines.
Prowl would help the 'cons, numerical wise. He was a military strategist not the bulk they were, he would try to play the seemingly ignorant Constructicons. The numbers were in his favor.
During the conversation Bonecrusher and Scavenger were passing by to put the newly mined raw energon deeper in the anclove, Mixmaster followed. Those two would probably blow the whole place anew if he left those idiots with raw energon.
Scrapper and Hook continued prodding Prowl, forging their little deal. The issue was they had an unfair advantage with their bond, they could communicate without the need to activate their voice modulators. Prowl was left in the dark on some things but Scrapper was an almost open book, Hook was less lenient but accepted Prowl because Scrapper was trusting him.
Mixmaster was still unknown, busy with refining energon for the crew but he was a chemist. He had a mind, a working.. somewhat manic mind.
Scavenger was doing whatever he was told, the most interested in their temporary add-on. Often glancing at Prowl from where he was behind, battered by Bonecrusher and Longhaul but Scrapper indulged in the curious mech.
Longhaul hadn't complained about Prowl being with them for the time being which was surprising in its own right, usually overbearing but he was getting his energy used up by hauling back and forth all solar-cycle. Often adding on to something someone said.
Bonecrusher was gruff, because why did they even need an autobot to help them? They were more than enough to dig themselves out, they were devestator. Irritated with Scrapper and Hook indulging in the smaller, weaker frame. Prowl did have some charm though, he was cold and as the 'cons didn't know. Prowl rarely acted this way with the autobots, he was clearly weakened. Doorwings not lowered in submission but because he listened to Hooks questionable medical advice.
Bonecrusher was fine with Prowl around, as long as he stayed out of the way.
Prowls migraines tore through his processor, leaving a scowl of pain and if you looked really close you could see a glint of embarrassment in his optics. Prowl was conflicted with his own affiliation, he'd tried to escape the war and as he was dragged down Optimus–his lifelong friend– accepted him into the autobots where he became a master of his tactical mind and was the primes main military strategist. He'd done everything for Primes cause, and what did he get? Barely even a pat on the back.
Shaking his helm in frustration, frustration that was not towards the 'cons overpowering presence. Their presence was better than being alone in this filthy pit.
Scrapper was speaking again, ushering Prowl into the now cramped cove that felt oddly warm from their engines still relaxing after just getting off work. Hook followed and they all crowded the cove, Longhaul had to duck some to not hit his head.
Prowl sat on the same crate, barley getting a height advantage from where the others sat all around. Longhaul and Scrapper were tired, Scavenger didn't seem exhausted. Purposely sitting closest to Prowl, shovel filled with a shinier sort of rubble.
Slowly scooting closer to the cop, leaning back against the crate and gazing up through that damn visor. Servos steady as if he was hunting the incapitated praxian who was more focused on the others moving about, Mixmasters conversation with Scrapper, Hook, Longhaul and Bonecrusher just talking at eachother.
The movement was making Prowl a little dizzy, he'd barely even registered who was who at this point. Mixmaster was the only one who stood out, blurrs of purple green and red.
Two rather large servos carefully grabbed Prowls pedes, getting him a jolt from the smaller. Prowl glanced down at Scavenger with a quiet sound of surprise, the position didn't allow Prowl to move his dirty pedes that were being held firmly by a curious 'con, watching Prowl tell him to let go but why would he? He was trying to help.
Scavenger pulled Prowls pedes over his shoulders, kibble pressed back against the crate a little uncomfortably but he didn't mind. Prowl was embarrassed, irritated and shocked. Unable to escape huge servos rubbing small circles against his lower thighs, left servo dipping down to still Prowls kicking pede.
Once the irritated cop relaxed and accepted his fate with a poor attempt at comfort the others didn't seem to care, apart from that Scavenger was touching someone outside of the gestalt but it was for comfort.. if Prowl was stressed the whole time then he'd really try to bolt.
When Scav tried resting his head back he got a smack from the cop, barely even putting up with this as is. He didn't need the back of a 'cons helm resting against his codpiece as if they were trinemates.. the nerve of this guy.
Prowl crossed his servos and leaned a tad to the side to rest his shoulder, sadly he couldn't lean back yet until Hook says so or else he'll probably get scolded and reminded of Ratchet. Not a mech he wanted to think of at the moment.
Scavenger eventually leaned his helm back against the apex of Prowls thighs, watching the upside down praxians optics shift around the cove. Dim optics, usually autobots had bright blue. Beautiful sapphire.. so why were his so dim?
Longhaul came over, teasing Scavenger about putting Prowl in this position. The unwilling participant sighing, trying to get some comfortable if he would be stuck like this pathetic show of soothing his temper.
The others crowded a little closer, their warmth whirring into Prowls cold plating. Scavenger was warm.. a soft warmth pooling between his thighs, feeling his pedes getting filth bushed off as Scav continued trying to comfort. He remembered when they were lost.. not exactly.
They were forged together, all 6 of them to build. Built to create, they were like a trine of sorts. Just a little different so they understood bonds, trines. Scavenger imagined Prowls trine, he remembered two others similar to Prowl. And Barricade, Barricade was a cop like Prowl.. did they work together before?
Scavengers curiosity about their prisoner, seeped through the bond. The others queued in as Prowl shifted when they all moved closer, the gestalt usually slept on one huge berth. The solar-cycle before being an exception.
Prowl didn't have much data on the constructicons themselves, they were violent and broody but right now they seemed bored. They could be working and they would be out sooner if they hadn't stopped when Prowl got up but how long were they working then? There was energon cubes piled up nearby, just enough before he had to process the other half raw energon.
Prowl couldn't get it off his processor the tickles of heated digits rubbing into cool metal, absently thinking about how hot Longhaul could get.
Hook and Scrapper were close, leaning against eachother in complete boredom. Digging and just digging wasn't entertaining for long and the entire gestalt was tired of it already.
Scavengers digits were exploring, rubbing his pedes and picking rocks that got stuck. Lifting his helm again to join in whatever conversation. They spoke and spoke, did they ever get tired of their banter?
Prowl rubbed his nasal ridge, a quiet headache trying to pipe up from the back of his processor. Immediately pulled from countless calculations when Mixmaster brought up Prowl being in recharge for solar-cycles.. how many solar-cycles? That got Prowls attention, sitting up with narrowed optics. Questioning the 'cons.
He'd only been in recharge for 3 solar-cycles and was a symptom of the dose Mix and Hook gave him because of course they gave Prowl a Constructicon dose because well, you can't blame them. They were all still dazed a few days ago.
He'd been recharging on the crate for 3 whole solar-cycles and the 'cons were mostly planning and digging away at certain spots. Lots of testing to make sure the place didn't collapse completely, they'd only started digging last solar-cycle. No wonder they were filthy again.. specifically Mixmaster who needed a break from refining the energon. They'd have to keep up with Mixmasters refining to not have low power.
Scrapper told him exactly what he thought happened and the others just kind of chatted, bored and exhausted.. it was so dark too, their visors and some lamps around from the tunnel that lit the place just enough to make out everyone.
Second chapter 'prompt' of my maybe fic that may be written.
First
I do want to get better at writing these seven but all of them in one scene is breaking my mind. Longhaul and Mixmaster are my main brats at the moment, characterization wise.
Tonight I will be focusing on posting the actual Hook/Prowl work.. thankfully, it's taken way longer than I'd expected but I'm a perfectionist and I see mistakes everytime I revise.
Promise my next fic won't take as long😞
When Prowl awoke propped up against Scrapper still who was troubleshooting with the other 5. Bonecrusher was being bashed for getting them into this mess but there was no bother, they were already here.
Stirring from his recharge, tac-net booting with a low whirr of his processor that was still foggy from the inexplainable pain the night before. Turned into a dull radiating ache throughout his whole frame.
It seems for now the gestalt was still recovering from their own minor damages but still rowdy.
Prowl was irritated with their rough demeanors and their loud voices, flowing freely throughout his loose field against Scrapper.
Prowl felt a tad demoralized in this position Scrapper held him in, but not angry since they did help him. As annoying as they were,
Hook and Mixmaster must've come up with some concoction to ease the pain, assumed from the feeling of weird liquidated medigel coated over lowered doorwings. The only thing keeping the cop from jumping and attempting to gain some sort of advantage was the fact that his tac-net held point percentages about success, worryingly low danger numbers filling his HUD.
So all he did was lay against a warm heavy chassis, every attempted escape weakened the tactician even more than he was. He looked terrible.
Eventually the conversation went to Prowl, their autobot 'prisoner' as if they all weren't, Hook had figured out that he was build cold which was probably why Scrapper was holding Prowl in his lap almost intimately close.
Just to keep him warm of course.
They talked about getting out and how, mostly Longhaul, Scrapper and Bonecrusher would be trying to dig their way through the collapse while Mixmaster, Hook and Scavenger dealt with finding more raw energon in the upcoming solar-cycles.
Prowl was trying to get up now, it was infuriating to be in the position he was in. Thank Primus the only people seeing him like that were dumb 'cons. Big jerks that won't ever not tease the cop outside of the tunnels.
Scrapper was firm but eased Prowl off to sit beside Hook and himself, a light sporty frame stuck between who masses that could hold enough tons that could kill the praxian 10x over.
Bonecrusher was his usual self again, frustrated with his own mess as Longhaul complained about Crushers mess. Everyone was upset about his mess.
Scavenger was helping Mixmaster with the raw energon, they sat in a smaller anclove. Away from where the original tunnel continued since they'd have to start digging out soon.
Hook brought up about how he looked terrible, wishing he had his instruments to fix him better. Hating to leave his work half finished or reversed, making sure to keep an optic on Prowl so he wouldn't go and waste his second chance.
Bonecrusher and Longhaul got to the dammed cop again, watching him sit with droopy doorwings. The drug Mix and Hook made seemed to subdue Prowl, keeping him just a little more docile than he would be stuck with the worst gestalt he'd ever dealt with in the past.
Pre-war the cop had seen the Constructicons on sites, it was obvious to why they joined the decepticons because living on barely enough energon on site day in and out without the shanx to pursue their hobbies. Free time was spent recharging or drunk on engex until their early shifts.
Prowl had never really dealt with them as his sector was more inner city but he'd occasionally go on long drives and find them either drunk at some lowend bar or working on whatever the council found fit for the day.
It was only logical for them to become who they are now but..
His processor ached from them, their actions.. It was abnormal and almost creepy with how they watched him, feeling heedy gazes on his doorwings. This whole situation made Prowl uneasy, not afraid but what were their intentions? Grumbling low to himself about this weird gestalt, it's not like he was ever close to the mechs in the first place..
The drug was dizzying to say the least, tac-net buffering a few kliks slower than usual. Numbers phased off his visual feed and the six gestalt mates talking and talking was giving him a processor ache.
The ground was hard and cold, worse than the big radiator of a mech Scrapper was.. were they all that warm? A low buzz in the back of his processor, keeping him aware but not enough to freak out.. everything ached, from his pedes, up to his thighs, hips.. up to his processor.. cold again.
The cooling mech sat quietly, swaying and overloaded by the calculations of his tac-net that made such little sense in his conscious.
Scavenger tapped on Prowls pede, getting his dazed attention. Rubbing the dirty metal as he watched the smaller mech stare at the huge servo on himself.
Scavenger was interested in the monochrome mech, Scav remembered this cop in battle, most autobots were bright but Prowl wasn't like most autobots was he? The gestalt was stupid but not that stupid, they knew the importance of Prowl. What he did for the autobots.
Scavenger just stared at the bright red chevron, it was almost a moment until he was smacked over the helm by Hook. Something was said about disturbing his patient, Prowl had only spoke in low murmurs at this point so they weren't sure if Prowl was still all there.
Secretly they needed his mind, his tac-net to be at full function and it did help some that the light frame was pretty..
Prowl was stuck staring at Scavengers visor, noting all their visors except for Mixmaster. Bright in the dark cave of dim blue, who else had a red visor? Jazz was blue..
Prowl was lost in thoughts of optics, visors and other variations. Tac-net calculating numbers of who had what and percentages on either side.
Knocked out of his trance when a heavy field was sat behind him with a rumble, Bonecrusher. A servo on his helm, tilting it to the side to look at Prowls faceplate from where Bonecrusher leaned down beside him.
He wasn't a doll to be pulled around, scowling at the large mech behind him. Reaching up to grab his forearm to push it away but of course the larger wasn't swayed.
They were all sat in a sort of circle.
(Scrapper - Prowl - Hook - Mixmaster - Longhaul)
Bonecrusher sat behind Prowl, Hook was telling off the bulldozer to not mess up his work. Mixmaster was dotting on about being stuck making energon with Scrapper who was assuring it was all necessity. Longhaul was leaning against the cave wall in boredom, somewhat tired as he was the largest. He needed most energon to be at full capacity.
Hook and Bonecrushers babbling got to the medic pulling Prowl onto his lap, away from the touchy mech who was also now being told down by Scrapper.
Explaining that it will take a solar-cycle or so for Prowl to move properly, there was inner circuits that Hook had fixed. Having to had fix minor works with only his servos and some sticky oil. After some rest he should have self repaired enough.
After dozing off again from Hook massaging into his backstrut, the medic was experienced after all these years. Joining the cause gave him the tools and working along flatline, mixed with his overall need to know. Hook was an excellent medic, not as practiced as ratchet or any of the autobot medics.
Massage making the praxian drool again, how in the world did chemist and medic even make this relaxant? With what materials? His processor was dizzy.. tac-net calculating percentages that didn't even matter.
Their voices filled his audials, loud and gruff like the mechs they were. So different in tone, so different.. they were all so different, united by one bind.. held together by their bond of devestator, they were one.
Prowls doorwings quivered as he recharged, memories of Praxus. His trine who he was created with, Smokescreen and Bluestreak. Would they even care Prowl was missing? Did they think they all died? Was it a good trade off? The strongest gestalt megatron commanded for some overbearing cop with issues?
It didn't hurt, it would never hurt but so many secrets for one mech to carry. Did the consteucticons worry? Did they hold eachother.. they were one, united forever. They could depend on eachother, they were Megatrons finest creation.. what was Prowl to the autobots, he did so much. Protected their cause, sacrificed for the good of cybertron. It was never enough, no. Optimus was too optimistic, he wanted to save everyone and live on earth. A place he'd called home. Earth would never be home, what was the war for if their home was forgotten? What did the decepticons think? Prowl was doing this all for the good of cybertron, home. Praxus.
Prowl had never been praised for his work, he was called unethical and cold. It almost hurt that his efforts weren't appreciated.
Hook held Prowls frame, the drug lowed Prowls processing power so his field was filled with doubt, distraught and anger. Anger directed at optimus, for what was the autobot cause?
Prowl didn't want to cry, the drug was heavy. Not meant for his frame type.
Coolant spilled and everything held a deep ache, feeling the others fields filled with a weight. Bearing the weight of their jobs, their interests, their cause. They weren't comforting or welcoming, but they were quiet. Accepting who he was, that must be how gestalts work. Acceptance, appreciation, they cared for eachother and that alone allowed the lonely mech to lull himself to recharge.
So I've sorta thought up a multi-chapter story for constructiprowl and it'll be IDW with G1 per usual..
But the constructicons working for the senate during the 'Golden age'?? Like uhhh yeahhah.. Pre-war boys just worked down to the frame with limited pay and were probably drinking engex every end of the week? I need a backstory with Prowl busting them down for something since he was a cop and all..
Not sure what I'll do with it but I'll flesh it out later, pre-war constructicons building the most perfect buildings.. Didn't they also build Crystal city..? Anyways I just need this to remind me to actually work on writing
I can't get Hooks fat spike out of my head.. I crave that mech carnally, someone put me doowwnnnn
I got distracted from actual writing again.. uh, not mee.. this was supposed to be a prompt and is roughly the same kind of 'prompt' as the one I'm writing from at the moment.
Prompt writing is not for me.. this was originally from my note app so, have a drabble as I cry about Hook doing Prowl x10 because he definitely probably misses Scrapper because they were close because they are my favorites and Scrapper was a good leader.. crying x100
So I've been thinking.. Cave-in either early IDW where Scrapper still lives or G1 with cute little police bot Prowl. Not sure where–maybe cybertron or some random planet the Autobots and 'cons are fighting on.
Premise is, the constructicons were mining or something down underground and Prowl, Streetwise and whoever were sent to investigate what the ever loving hell the 'cons were doing digging that deep.
Cut forward there's a cave in after a few solar-cycles of ground tremors and shakes, after a few joors turns out Bonecrusher put his detonations down without calculating proper geographical components and the place goes down. Just so happens at the same time Prowl was in the deeper section where they were all congested and was now trapped with the huffy gestalt because of course one of the times 'Crusher blows himself a grave it's dragging all the gestalt under.
Transmissions couldn't get through due to the absolute ground mass, so Prowl was stuck and the gestalt was too busy digging themselves out of the mess they were dragged into and by time they all got their bearings in the tight section. They were barely low on energon but thankfully they were mining for energon, as little as there was.. Mixmaster would be able to stabilize the raw material to consume.
But Prowl had already seized their energon supply with the time he'd had to get his own bearings from having to drag himself out of a pile of rubble. Paint scratched and not looking his best, wing polish scratched down into the sensitive now bare metal of his doorwings that were quivering and needed a new coat soon before his overstimulated, achy frame got worse.
Already huffy when the constructicons came stumbling for their energon that–somehow–survived the demolitists' playtime. Holding his blaster up to the 6 heavy framed gestalt who were equally as beat from cycles of dragging eachother around under tons of rubble. Bonecrusher who took the hit the worse.
They didn't care about the investigative questions spewing from the weakened cop, barely stable himself as his pathetic show of using the energon against the 'cons was found amusing.
After all they were devestator, why should they be scared of some praxian who looked a whole lot worse than them? Whose wings were cut and sensitive to the slightest draft and leaking energon behind from where he had trailed from.
Their main priority wasn't the cop but energon, pushing past and eating down the last of their rations (the only stable energon as Mix couldn't mix until they rested)
Scrapper questioned the dazed cop who was on his aft in the same spot, the most inquisitive of the bunch wondering how the little frame survived.
Prowl was of course pressed that they hadn't even been a tad threatened, did he really look that bad? Sat off to the side, once realizing the dirty gestalt were more focused on downing energon and fixing their own wounds for now. Prowl found himself looking over his own damage in depth, completely seeing how much more of a wreck he was. And how cold he felt now that the adrenaline died down.
Only brought back to a hazy moment when he realized they were looking at him and Scrapper and Hook were speaking to the dizzy cop. The sheer ache in his doorwings hurt so bad he couldn't even feel it, distracting him from the potential danger of 6 'con frames of destruction lazing about.
Pulled out of his processor when a grounding servo prodded a dent in his arm, pulling away from the foreign touch. The medic, simply trying to check the damages when Prowl pulled back as best he could from their stares. Visors all on him.
Scrapper didn't seemed to notice though, kneeling infront of Prowl to get some information from him as Hook was almost force feeding the little amount of energon left over into his intake, grumbling about the mess of energon and how filthy every mech was.
After a few joors of half assed answers and being prodded by a crazy 'con medic that was definitely touching everything that hurt purposely, Scrapper having to drag the conversation back to how they just need to relax and they'll all make it out.. but why did they care about Prowl? Why were they helping him, if not for some gain? To keep as a prisoner of war? He'll have to bolt the second they get out.
After some time Prowl was being cleaned up by the grumbling medic whenever he'd need to restart a repair, Mixmaster and Scavenger who were sorting out their raw energon that they'd mined, along with Longhaul who was groveling about getting out of this pit. Bonecrusher was forced in recharge, having taken the worst of it all. Already patched up by Hook.
It was obvious there was another conversation going on, it was loud with how they hummed and verbally responded as they spoke through their gestalt bond.
When Hook got to Prowl's doorwings he'd seemed to pause, testing the raw metal that got him a scowl and doorwings quivering. The touch would've felt good if his wings weren't already cut through and bloody.
Scrapper helped Prowl for some reason.. Leaning the cop against his heavy chassis as Hook insisted albit harshly that Prowls doorwings needed to be patched up or risk infection or a medical procedure he didn't have the tools to do. So, forced to indluge the medic Prowl found his faceplate against the cold dirty metal of Scrapper, Hook on his backside organizing the little amount of equipment he'd had.
It hurt, the pain was excruciating to have his wings touched with no sort of covering or relaxant. Only straight onto the barest they could be, he didn't know when coolant spilled down his optics onto Scrappers chassis. All he could think about was escaping the pain, digits indenting into Scrappers hip.
Hook only paused when he'd finished wrapping a wound or Scrapper when had to shift the silent panting praxian. It had gone on for what felt like cycles, doorwings fluttering and quivering in thick servos. Occasionally soothing up and down his backstrut because they must've known Barricade was from Praxus aswell, probably had struggled with his own fair share of wounds with Hook who seemed experienced in the more sensitive spots.
After one wing was finished he was given a break, coolant still oozing against Scrapper. Laid almost limp across the larger mech who was speaking with Mix, Scrapper and Longhaul who came along to watch. It's not like they had anything better to do, and watching an autobot stifling sobs in the arms of one of their own? It was amusing to say the least.
After an entire solar-cycle of being tossed in and out of consciousness, numb pain and the excruciating frustration whenever Hook had gone to redo a spot because it wasn't perfect enough.
By the end of it Mixmaster had gotten enough energon processed to feed the half dead cop, oral lubricants and energon leaking from Prowl's intake from the attempted feeding. They had all gotten their own mounts of fuel in no time. Doorwings patched up but still need time to heal through. Leaving Prowl unable to transform until he was better, trapped in a hole with maniacs.. Great.
After passing out in a puddle of his own tears, thankfully they just left him off to recharge.. against Scrapper.. because of course, he couldn't exactly sleep on his backside without irritating freshly cleaned wounds, very very sensitive wounds.
This situation was completely in the left field, the 'cons had fixed his wounds, let him recharge with no more prodding and their teasing was kept to a limit. But then of course what good would he do a corpse, how long will it take to get out of this pit? Where's Streetwise.. Jazz?
Soo.. I've got the first bit to my liking, as terribly formatted as is. I also hope it's known that this is a valveplug oneshot (maybe 2) with Hook balling prowl..
I need to say this now, the formatting for the entire fic will be shit. I'm still trying to find something that works for me.. and I've revised this into the ground.. nothing makes sense in it anymore..
It had been nearly 2 joors since Prowl had pinged Hooks private comm line. Unusual, since the praxian seemed to want nothing to do with his gestalt since Optimus had put him in office on strict orders after a complication. The gestalt bond had been bound tight since their first combining back in Iacon, and with the ease of the tactician's tac-net managing subroutines as such it wasn’t a problem. Only a smidge of Prowl's actual stresses and feelings seeped through the bond. A workaholic if you must. Leaving the constructicons to worry for their foreman now that he wouldn’t- couldn’t come out of his office for a whole deca-cycle.
From almost endless holo-vid meetings to Starscream harping at prowl to work faster every nanoklik and almost every upcoming statistic came from Prowl's overworked processor that hasn’t had a break since- well since he’d onlined all those solar-cycles ago.
Cold, alone and overstimulated from the beginning.
Mixmaster visited from time to time to drop off energon sweets that were laced with boosters of sorts and experimental elixirs for keeping Prowl’s processor cooled to work long joors. Mixmaster would coax Prowl into drinking the elixirs before he left with a manic glint in his optics.
Scavenger came in on breaks from constructicon to visit. Leaving shiny bits and pieces of useless rubbish he’d found on site, often met with a glance accompanied with that iconic prowl scowl. The usually filthy mech was careful not to soil the office and left his presents where space was found, leaving tracks of grime lingering in his path.
Longhaul made sure to come in later when he knew prowl was more docile and exhausted after lengthy meetings. Needing to force his boss to recharge off some stress in the comfort of the much larger mech's embrace, after some resistance with the eventual dozed off praxian being rocked into recharge by his larger mates purring engine.
Bonecrusher on the other servo came in before they left for the construction site, trying to sway Prowl to sneak home for the night, prodding at their barely awake boss, provoking the exhausted praxian even more. Always leading to a scuffle–usually involving biting and growling–that was solved by Bonecrusher getting a pathetic beating by Prowl, grinning at the Praxian bearing their colors where it rubbed off.
Hook only visited when he found Prowl's unhealthy workload needed to be checked on, leaving medi-gel for his digit joints that turned into arguments about ‘healthy lifestyles’ and how Prowl needed to tend to the gestalt bond or it’ll be affecting all of them. Always sure to emphasize that it was unhealthy to not be bonding with his mates for extended amounts of time, the one on one encounters trot on the edge of falling off.
Hopefully I'm on the last stretch tonight of writing.
A few days ago I got blood work and apparently have had anemia for almost a year now.. probably more so I have 15 transfusions soon.. which is definitely why I haven't been able to work on this for longer than 15 minutes a day.
Either way I'm glad it's nearing an end and hopefully I can start a Zetasen fic or whatever anyone wants at this point. 💚
I don't think I'll ever get over this bunch.. Hook has become my muse.
Writing progress has been iffy, just some little edits left after doing it a million times now. Gonna focus more on Hook than the other 4 right now, their chararizations will be iffy still.. I'm planning writting a full fledged story after this brainkilling one-shot, meaning formatting will be easier! Yay!
Maybe I'm a double liar, so.. I've been revising through since I've gotten about halfway through and for the past week I've been stuck in a loop of editing and rereading it. Currently it's been 6 hours and I haven't even finished editing half. It's only 3000 at the moment and I'm gonna crashout.
Hook, if your seeing this I hope you get poisoned.
Also, I've re edited this like 7 times now because I keep finding mistakes and I want it down t'now, it's 6 in the morning like please.. I'll get the end of editing done tomorrow and start up where I left off to finish the other half. I'm running out of pop music..
Yeah well I'm a liar so.. The first paragraph of the fic since this shit gonna take a while. Gotta re charaterize since I want the big greens to have actual personalities but Prowls just fucked stupid since writing him will be a pain in the aft.
It had been nearly 2 joors since Prowl had pinged Hooks private comm line. Unusual, since the praxian seemed to want nothing to do with his gestalt since Optimus had put him in office on strict orders after their complication. The gestalt bond was squeezed shut with little effort and the obvious help of the tactician's tac-net, only a smidge of Prowl's actual stresses and feelings seeped through the bond. A workaholic if you must. Leaving the constructicons to worry for their foreman now that he wouldn’t- couldn’t come out of his office for a whole deca-cycle.
Clocked by Hook once again, charaterizing a perfectionist in a messy scenario feels filthy. It's been a week and I'm not even at the part with all 6, I swear I'll have this done in like 2 days..
So Hook admires Prowl for his brilliance blah blah, something like that I don't know it's just prowl getting fragged but everytime I look at it I cry. Never give up.
Writing fics is so enjoyable until you realize you repeated the same thing again and again but your already 3000 words in so changes change everything AND you forget what happened in the beginning so your stuck in a loop of rereading your half finished smut fic.
(Prowl will be the reason I die, aswell as his gestalt.. sending hate to Hook)
Everyone that can write is godly to me.. maybe I just wrote shit prompts, but I BEG.. editing is so fun but then I don't write and it's a cycle of pain.
