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Description
This is old and rubbish and I hate it, but it makes *ThornQueen happy as a panda cub to see fanart done for her, and this does unfortunately fill that criteria.

So... eh? I really dislike it, but here it is anyway. THE THINGS I DO FOR YOU, TQ.

From chapters 5/6 of her fic "When Vanity Met Insanity ", which I helladore and vaguely suspect was written at least in part to please my sillinessness

*

Sunstreaker remained where he was on the floor, halfway between rising and reclining. He didn't dare move when the barrel of a gun was focused a bare inch away from his faceplate. Not just any gun, but one that shot acid pellets instead of plasma. He knew Prowl preferred to use weaponized acid over plasma because it was more likely to incapacitate an enemy rather than kill them, giving the Autobots the chance to interrogate the subdued opponent at a later date. Acid could do a lot of damage to Sunstreaker's faceplate, but it wouldn't kill him.

He didn't think he could live with himself if his faceplate was burned off.

His optics darted up to see Prowl's expression, but it was impossible to discern any intention within the reflective lenses. Was the tactician so wrapped up in the curse that he was going to pull the ultimate cliche? If he couldn't have Sunstreaker, no one would? Because in the face of death, Sunstreaker was actually quite willing to rescind his earlier opinions of the tactician. Prowl was not looking so bad anymore. Nope, he looked tolerable. Almost decent. And quite frankly, Sunstreaker was willing to do what it took to not have his faceplate melted off.

"P-prowl?"

*

Edit: Well, apparently people have different feels about this nonsense from me. Agree to disagree, ma babies

Sunstreaker & Prowl (c) HasTak etc.
"When Vanity Met Insanity" (c)

Description
This is old and rubbish and I hate it, but it makes *ThornQueen happy as a panda cub to see fanart done for her, and this does unfortunately fill that criteria.

So... eh? I really dislike it, but here it is anyway. THE THINGS I DO FOR YOU, TQ.

From chapters 5/6 of her fic "When Vanity Met Insanity ", which I helladore and vaguely suspect was written at least in part to please my sillinessness

*

Sunstreaker remained where he was on the floor, halfway between rising and reclining. He didn't dare move when the barrel of a gun was focused a bare inch away from his faceplate. Not just any gun, but one that shot acid pellets instead of plasma. He knew Prowl preferred to use weaponized acid over plasma because it was more likely to incapacitate an enemy rather than kill them, giving the Autobots the chance to interrogate the subdued opponent at a later date. Acid could do a lot of damage to Sunstreaker's faceplate, but it wouldn't kill him.

He didn't think he could live with himself if his faceplate was burned off.

His optics darted up to see Prowl's expression, but it was impossible to discern any intention within the reflective lenses. Was the tactician so wrapped up in the curse that he was going to pull the ultimate cliche? If he couldn't have Sunstreaker, no one would? Because in the face of death, Sunstreaker was actually quite willing to rescind his earlier opinions of the tactician. Prowl was not looking so bad anymore. Nope, he looked tolerable. Almost decent. And quite frankly, Sunstreaker was willing to do what it took to not have his faceplate melted off.

"P-prowl?"

*

Edit: Well, apparently people have different feels about this nonsense from me. Agree to disagree, ma babies

Sunstreaker & Prowl (c) HasTak etc.
"When Vanity Met Insanity" (c)