Going To Hell...Who's Coming With Me?

I wrote something other than a drabble tonight.

( I love Cape buffalo. They are big, they are mean, they will fuck you up because they feel like it. LOVE, I tell you. LOVE. If I didn't need an opportunity for Blackarachnia and Silverbolt to meet, the Preds could just sit this one out and let the wildlife handle things. Did I mention love? (Though to be honest, at this point they've only just seen the buffalo.) )

But sometimes, it's do that or let your head explode, and brains are SO HARD to get off the ceiling.

( Besides, it's my Sue and I can do what I want to. )

Although I'm not sure I'll feel better until I've achieved blood and body parts.*

This worries me less than the fact the lionesses are looking at Megatron going, "You know, we chose these beast modes for a reason: male lions compete to donate sperm and babysitting duties, and that's it. Do you really think we're going to take orders from a male of an extinct species?" I may have some concerns that the Pride is going to end up a third faction.

It's possible my OCs are getting out of my control, is what I'm saying.

Meanwhile, it's just slightly possible that I may have broken down and ordered a bunch of imps that will give me the option of smelling like a chaotic evil paladin or a clockwork spider. *head in hands* Thank any and all gods for imps. BPAL's shipping rates are still fucking ridiculous, though.


*Not as part of the actual story. Probably. And it's not like this could ever go into the fic itself because the best person to get up Silverbolt's nose about this is Wingstorm, and I don't plan to rob him of his big "fuck you!" scene.