#tf firestar

• What’s happening? What’s happening?! Freezing as her mouth covers yours, you have no idea how to respond. Hadn’t even thought she’d really liked you that way even though you definitely have a crush on her. And she’s got an arm around you, dipping you as a thigh slides between your own. Have no idea where this came from all of a sudden, but you’re hardly complaining as her glossa slides against the seam of your lips and as soon as you let her in, she’s deepening the kiss until your toes curl in your boots.

• Head lifting as you blink dazedly up at her, the scent of your need fills her when she vents. Cradling you close, she can’t deny that you look appealing right now as you stare up at her. Had only meant to lay claim to you. To warn off the other human, but now she’s tempted to really claim you. Make sure you know you’re hers. Servos still on your chin, she glances at the other human. “Come back to my habsuite with me,” she says, the words not really a question as she brushes a servo against your bottom lip. Because you’re adorably flustered right now, completely focused on her and that other human forgotten.

• Apparently this is happening. Face red hot, you’re pretty sure you’d agree to almost anything after that kiss. You think you might have said okay, but you’re not entirely sure as her hand closes possessively on your wrist and she’s tugging you along behind her toward a row of habsuites. You might be grinning like an idiot judging by the looks you’re getting, but it’s hard to really care that much. All this time flirting and hoping, certain that she barely even noticed you, paying off. “You’re overdressed,” she says, letting herself in the human sized security door and having to duck to get inside as the flame crowning her head flares and flickers. Bending to awkwardly unlace your boots and toe them off, you can hear her moving around behind you. So much taller than you are even mass displaced. And when you turn, she’s leaned back against a wall, optics hooded watching you as your eyes trail down the curves of her frame. Before stopping short, snagging on the jutting length of her spike.

• Arms loaded down with boxes and still confused on exactly what your job is, you look for the dorms. They’d rushed you through your training needing new caretakers immediately, slapped a patch with a sketchy and slightly suggestive emblem on it that says S.P.I.K.E. on your coveralls and had shoved you out the door into the base proper. You’re guessing someone will come to get you and let you know when you’ve got an assignment? Maybe? From what you’d gathered, you’re supposed to wash and pamper one of the ETs, while also keeping tabs on them. Gathering intel that might be useful and keeping them happily distracted.

• Seeing a Decepticon walk by, a human perched on his shoulder and laughing at something he’s said, she wonders if everyone has a human conjunx. Everyone but her. Maybe humans are status symbols here? “Oh, you’re on fire.” Looking around and then thinking to look down, one of the little organics is right there, arms full and staring up at her. “That’s so cool.” Cool? Straightening slightly at the hint of admiration in your voice, it’s no surprise you’re impressed. ‘And who do you belong to?’ She asks, studying you. No patterns on your coverings. Can’t scent anyone on you when she softly vents.

• Distracted by the hips and fire hair, it takes you a moment to belatedly realize she asked you a question. And this one has to be a she, that soft voice is smoke and heat as her head tips. Trying to not stare at the mesmerizing way her fire hair moves, you adjust your boxes, chin on the top one to keep it from sliding on the pile. “I’m new. No assignment,” you answer honestly. She makes a soft sound, a hand lifting to tap a sharp looking servo against her bottom lip. ‘Then you can be mine,’ she decides and you blank. Is that how this works? You just get dibbed by one of them?

Moonracer is a rough-and-tumble girl with a formidable aim. As the youngest of the group, she ends up being the most naïve one, holding onto baseless hope and taking childish rivalries way too seriously. She’s bound to make mistakes and misjudge in attempts to prove herself, and despite her bravado and pride, she does own up to them and tries her best to fix and learn from her errors.

She has a special sort of admiration and love for her leader, Elita-1, yet has a notable difficulty in seeing eye to eye with her older superior, Chromia (not attributed to their size difference).

Chromia is the second-in-command and the trusted right-hand woman of Elita-1. She puts all of herself and more into covering for any gaps in her leader’s performance. Her no-nonsense attitude and professionalism make her a perfect fit, even if those same attributes do not make her fun at parties (it’s not like she’s worried about it).

Chromia was a member of Cybertron’s army, a fact she regrets profoundly and wishes to atone for.

She has deep feelings she'd rather not dwell on regarding her leader, Optimus' (apparently still alive) bodyguard, and the outspoken newcomer from another planet.

Lancer is a woman of action, not words. She would rather spend her time tinkering with possible upgrades for a cloaking device, listening to her sparkmate talk, or fighting.

Before the war, Lancer was a software engineer, and despite being content with her profession, she never fit in with the intellectual elite of Cybertron. It was only when the war came that she was able to find her place among the Autobot rebellion, fighting for those who couldn’t do it themselves. On the battlefield, Lancer manages to keep her characteristic tranquility even while shooting Decepticons' brain modules using a bow and arrow (not pictured).

Greenlight is everything Lancer isn't: amiable, talkative, and incapable of fighting. It’s not her fault; not every civilian is fit to take arms. Before the war, Greenlight was a prominent pharmacist and enjoyed the luxuries her profession provided. As the war started, she hesitated to join the resistance against the Decepticon army. Even though she didn’t agree with their ideals and plans for Cybertron, she had decided the conflict wasn’t her problem; it wasn’t until all of her close friends were killed during a Decepticon invasion that she (and her sparkmate) finally took action and joined the resistance.

Greenlight may think her role of supporting the crew is insignificant next to Lancer’s prowess in combat (and may be jealous of her own sparkmate), but she is essential to the crew’s maintenance.

To say Elita-1 is the leader of the Autobot resistance on Cybertron would be an understatement. Even before Optimus' disappearance, she had cemented herself as an indispensable figure in the Autobot resistance. With time, her importance and responsibilities only grew. It wouldn't be wrong to say she's the most important figure the Autobots have.

She looks back at each Autobot putting it all on the line to defend Cybertron, no matter how small they think their role is, and she swears to protect their lives at any cost. She’ll go to any length to keep her planet (and other planets) from complete Decepticon domination. Her goal and duty supersede it all, even herself.

Firestar is good, and she'll make sure you know it. A rescue worker by profession and a daredevil at spark, she loves and lives for the adrenaline of danger and, better yet, loves proving she’s the best at what she does.