best-head

[best-head]

Staring directly at him.

He was being.. watched. His doorwings, very slowly, visibly began to hike up along his back, but he did not quite turn around.

Mostly because if he did, Megatron would likely.. catch him with his ill gotten prize.

A brownie.

[best-head]

Grabby paws. "Let me smell you."

Squint. Prowl's good optic narrowed at that, but.

..if he doesn't, she may pout. Rolling his optic up towards the ceiling, Prowl ambled closer, well within range. If she was going to bap him with her legs, at the very least, he could press his face into her chest fluff in exchange.

[best-head]

@noiizemaze

uh oh

[best-head]

That was an Enforcer Unit.

But.. not? Odd. Prowl's doorwings did another series of complicated movements, again. But then again, Enforcer Units came in all different sizes. Experimental like Prowl, then, perhaps? He whooped again, a soft, 'I am here' sound, and pressed closer servo pressing to his chassis, again. "You changed your colors." He doesn't know why he's so.. attached. Suddenly.

He'd never been attached, before. He'd handed Springer to Kup without a second thought because that had been for the best.

So why..? "It looks... good on you."

" Prowl? I've gotta drop somethin' off. Mama made somethin'-" In steps the familiar frame. The familiar voice.

Except it's black and white. A red top helm crest. His palms expose flashes of purple around the box and the bottoms of his pedes. Shaped into something with less bulk and almost a heel like lift. Bright blue optics set over familiar cheeks, lips pursed in a confused pout.

"...Prowl-?"

He knew Springer's pedesteps before Springer had so much as said a word. Hard not to know them, but Prowl knew the weight of every pede he'd heard and put it away for later to categorize.

Optimus walked like he was trying not to step on anything or anyone, Megatron walked like he wanted you to know you were in danger, Ratchet's pedesteps were brisk and purposeful, Starscream walked like he had something to prove.

So on and so forth.

Springer was... thunder, from Earth. Loud, at times, the closer he got, therein belying the dangerous nature of-

He glanced up, and then froze in thought process. The first thing he processed was not the green of Springer, but the black and white of another Police Unit. Doorwings lifting to attention, he pushed himself to stand, optic locked singlemindedly on that color scheme.

He was on Springer before he knew it, a sever pressed to his chassis, and then moving around him in a confused circle. Another.. Unit? They didn't make models like this. But this was clearly a Police Unit. Pausing in front of him, his doorwings went wide, down, and then up again.

And then, hesitantly, a soft 'whoop!' in a call.

[best-head]

"I'm not going to share you with anyone. I never have."

He's not pouting, he's brooding, there is a significant difference that led to Prowl looking slightly more dignified than the other.

..but he will accept being cuddle, yes.

"I don't have to share."

"It's hard work being God's favorite princess, but someone has to do it."

[best-head]

"Can't be his favorite if you're mine."

"It's hard work being God's favorite princess, but someone has to do it."

[best-head]

"If Unicron is 'daddy', does this make me 'son-in-law'?"

[best-head]

" Prowl? I've gotta drop somethin' off. Mama made somethin'-" In steps the familiar frame. The familiar voice.

Except it's black and white. A red top helm crest. His palms expose flashes of purple around the box and the bottoms of his pedes. Shaped into something with less bulk and almost a heel like lift. Bright blue optics set over familiar cheeks, lips pursed in a confused pout.

"...Prowl-?"

He knew Springer's pedesteps before Springer had so much as said a word. Hard not to know them, but Prowl knew the weight of every pede he'd heard and put it away for later to categorize.

Optimus walked like he was trying not to step on anything or anyone, Megatron walked like he wanted you to know you were in danger, Ratchet's pedesteps were brisk and purposeful, Starscream walked like he had something to prove.

So on and so forth.

Springer was... thunder, from Earth. Loud, at times, the closer he got, therein belying the dangerous nature of-

He glanced up, and then froze in thought process. The first thing he processed was not the green of Springer, but the black and white of another Police Unit. Doorwings lifting to attention, he pushed himself to stand, optic locked singlemindedly on that color scheme.

He was on Springer before he knew it, a sever pressed to his chassis, and then moving around him in a confused circle. Another.. Unit? They didn't make models like this. But this was clearly a Police Unit. Pausing in front of him, his doorwings went wide, down, and then up again.

And then, hesitantly, a soft 'whoop!' in a call.

[best-head]

Optimus, unsubtle as always, paws at him. “Prowl?”

Pawing at him! Prowl huffed softly, optic squinting, before setting down his datapad. He had to remind himself that Optimus wasn't technically his Commanding Officer, anymore, a 'sir' lingering just on the tip of his glossa.

"Optimus," he settled for instead, doorwings lifting slightly. "Do you need my assistance?"

[best-head]

Did you know in a human myth a God of the Dead tricks a Goddess into eating the fruit of the dead? Doing so created the seasons. 6 seeds, 6 months.

That fruit was Pomegranate.

It's also associated with fertility and giving yourself to another.

Who's attempting to keep YOU Prowl? And how far do you think they'd be willing to go? Perhaps the one that calls you Muse?

"I'm already kept." Prowl huffed a little laugh, nose wrinkling. "I'm married. How much more kept could I be?" Tarantulas had accepted him after everything, he'd come in cold and sopping wet and wide optic'd, and she'd bundled him inside with minimal questions. "We have open communication. I tell her if she'd being overbearing and she tells me if I'm being.." Hm. "An asshole." He could at least acknowledge he was that, now. That had taken some work.

[best-head]

There are two pomegranates sitting at his desk.

And then a jar of pomegranate seeds.

Prowl scanned them first, of course. You could NEVER be too careful, and beyond that, people sometimes got creative with their explosives.

Even still, all clear, but that doesn't mean they pass the poison test.

If it were tarantulas, she'd of just handed it to him, after all.

..they pass the poison test, too. A gift? A random gift. ..he isn't one to shrug these sorts of things off, but pomegranates are pomegranates, after all. ..and they're his favorite.

[best-head]

He hadn't been sure who'd invited him, actually- still wasn't. Nobody ever thought it was a good idea to bring Prowl, of all people to functions like this, least of all Prowl.

He also wasn't sure who handed him what, but between the two drinks he'd had, the dross offered in jest -he'd gotten a number of surprised looks for even smoking it- and.. what else? He couldn't remember right now, his tacnet probably picked it up.

Either way, he felt.. good. The music is no longer grating. Instead of agitating the sensitive sensors in his doorwings, he can feel the.. the rhythm in it. The bass curled around him, and he could actually feel it, for once. It actually caused his doorwings to twitch and flutter, lifting, falling and fanning out in time with the beat, optic narrowed in a sort of confused pleasure.

And then he'd spotted Tarantulas across the way- he'd only come because she'd asked him to, really, and now he's glad he did. She looked like she was enjoying herself. Enticed, perhaps, by the music, the lights and color, and the way she was dancing, he found himself moving closer-

And then he got the urge to bite her. This was not.. the place. But he got the urge, and before he could catch up with the idea that he might not want to do that here, he was already doing it.

Making a muffled noise of agreement into his mouthful, he squeezed at her chest plate and rocked side to side in awkward time with the beat. "Mmph," he managed, before he extracted his mouth from her shoulder. "Havin' a good time?"

{ @best-head } There's no warning, not even so much as a 'hello' or his trademark grumbling, no. What Tarantulas got what a surprisingly silent datsun pressed against her back, and his dainty little Praxian fangs dug into her shoulder. ..you know. The usual.

{ @best-head }

It's little more than a pinch, her muse's tender bite. Nothing compared to the wicked curve of her own chelicerae, dry bite or... not.

But she would know him anywhere. No one else was ever so ambitious and greedy as her Prowl. Always coming back for seconds. Never quite done, no matter how he objects.

Tarantulas moans softly, the sound lost to the music but surely, with Prowl pressed so close, he can feel the thrum of it through every point of touch between them-- and more, as she curls her paws around his wrists to drag his servos up to the fluff of her chestplate.

"Shameless, aren't you?"

[best-head]

more of that bug.

[best-head]

“Prowl? Prowl, can I—?” Rung asks, holding his arms out to the detective in an unspoken request for cuddles.

Let the records show: Prowl, in Earth terms, is a mama's boy.

So of course, when Rung reached his arms out towards him, reflexively, Prowl bent to pick him up, careful of his bumper, and tucked Rung into his lap. He wasn't working, so there was no chance of Rung accidentally seeing something confidential.

Rung definitely didn't need to see any of his current cases.

"Hello, carrier. ..you came all this way by yourself?"

[best-head]

for me personally, what strengthens my autistic prowl headcanon is that he's rather good on the principles of body language, taking stock of minute movements and understanding what it could mean. he overanalyzes and tries to predict the meaning behind it. but he doesn't have the full grasp on social matters, thus making people unpredictable because he doesn't truly understand or even just 'go with the flow' when it comes to people. he needs a script of sort to interact, and in a way, body language is that.

he can have all the data on someone he wants, preferring to think of people in numbers because numbers are safe and predictable (not as in, oh, Prowl is willing to let people die. when i say numbers here i mean it literally, as in his calculations that he can't help himself from running). the individuality of people, however.... he can't actually put his knowledge into practice when he's thinking too hard on how he should react to said body language.

im not necessarily applying this to idw1 specifically, btw (all prowls are autistic to me). because the thing about idw1 prowl, i do like seeing him in an autistic lens but he is also Just An Asshole. he can in fact be both (though there's something to be said on how certain characters are a touch unreliable in how they talk about him because they believe the worst of him (i.e., Fort Max feeling he was left for dead when Prowl was led to believe that he had died), as well as how the writers just wanted to make Prowl Always in the wrong, even though he very much had a point in saying the Autobots were hypocrites, even if Prowl is still a bad guy despite being a victim). that's a lot of words to say that i hate people looking at Prowl's worst traits and trying to justify them simply with 'he's autistic' lol. there can be a genuinely interesting conversation on how the way his processor works can be an allegory for being neurodivergent/autistic specifically, but alas.. prowl is extremely flawed, and that's okay! he can be flawed and still exist within the realm of your headcanon.

really i just mean it's a bit Interesting when that's all people go with. you can say it's a mix of both, and that's still better than painting a rather harmful picture of autism/autistic traits. they don't make you into an asshole, they make certain areas of life harder to navigate. in Prowl's case, i think you can definitely say that both his good and bad traits can be used for the headcanon, it's just that he also doesn't do himself any favors when it comes to people liking him, and he's well aware of that. he doesn't pretend to be a good person, but he still gets frustrated when people don't see things the way he does.

it's difficult even trying to articulate my thoughts here because i don't want to be misunderstood oughhh i just relate to him because i tend to answer rhetorical questions because i can't pick up on whether or not someone is being genuine in asking, but im really fucking good at reading body languages. it's like a game of life or death to me. i took classes for something that seems to come easier to people, building up the skill. all just to still not get people on a fundamental level. Oh well

[best-head]

"I want you to do the surgery." Prowl paused, mouth twisting, as he considered how vague this was, how.. how many different surgeries Tarantulas had proposed to Prowl over the years.

How many more there might be proposed. Best to clarify.

"This.. frame," he started, lingering hesitantly over certain aspects of himself, "have negative connotations to it that are bothering me, now. It was not something I considered, before, but it lingers in the front of my processor, now." Another pause, and then he lifted a datapad from subspace to offer to her. "I have made a sort of design, keeping certain things and functions, and changing others. Will you look it over? I am open to critical feedback."

{ @best-head } "Tarantulas." Prowl's voice was.. pensive, here, questioning, almost. As though he had a question that he didn't quite understand how to ask. ..or to word. "May we talk, for a moment?"

{ @best-head }

"What about?"

Straight to the point, as always. Eager for a new project? Or simply eager for Prowl?

Tarantulas eases her way out from behind her computer station to come and brush by Prowl in his chair, a tarsal sliding teasingly-- intimately-- over the top edge of the ex-Enforcer's closest doorwing.

"I am, hyeh, all sensory hairs."

[best-head]

Prowl bent to let Rung kiss his cheeks, optic cycling, though his face flushed with energon when Optimus was mentioned. Rung always seemed to know exactly how to take him off guard. He shouldn't be surprised- Optimus lived here, now.

"It's good to see you. You look well," he murmured.

Shiny- happy. A far cry from before. Prowl's doorwings flick a little, down and then up before relaxing.

( @best-head } "Mother. I hope you don't mind that I've stopped by without notice."

{ @best-head }

“Have I ever minded?” Rung points out, sweeping over to kiss both of Prowl’s cheeks before taking the ex-enforcer’s servos in his own. “You’re always welcome wherever I am.”

Granted, things were a pinch chaotic at the moment, but when were they not?

“Optimus will be so happy to see you!”