literature

A Grimm Story

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"Extraordinary," Chester breathed, watching as ripples appeared through silken solid darkness behind his exploring fingers. "Just... wow."

It was hard to wrap his mind around the concept that the thing - no, body he was touching was alive. As he trailed his fingers through the slick obsidian mass, it gently gripped his fingers as if it meant to keep him close. Though tarry in appearance, it was not sticky. It seemed to be both liquid and solid, and yet seemingly so fantastical as to be in a category of its own.

A pair of small, shiny black beads peered out from the whirling solid oil slick, watching with nervous curiosity. Aside from those fascinating optics, there were no other features on the creature. No angles, no corners, no armour at all. There were only liquid contours as flowing as the banks of a river and as malleable as shadow itself.

Chester paused to meet those alien optics. "Can you feel it when I touch you like this?"

"Yes, I can feel you." A voice that came out of nowhere, from the darkness itself. Both gentle and rough, it was the sound of Death coming.

He pushed his fingers inward, watching as his hand disappeared joint by joint until he was swallowed up to the edge were a green plate of armour backed his hand. "Does that hurt?"

Ebony optics blinked strangely, from side to side rather than up and down. "No. It... tickles."

Fingertips swirled around and around, watching as the darkness formed a whirlpool. Everything was fluid and whirling, rippling and surreal. The basic shape of the creature followed that of a general Cybertronian; an upright being, with a head-like protrusion at the top and an arm on either side. A single thick column served as the legs, to either hover over the ground or slither in silent motion – Chester had not been able to figure out the form of locomotion yet. He had every intention of finding out.

"Is sensation sharper when you are not hiding in your... shell?"

There was surprise on that featureless faceplate. Chester wondered how he knew the expression was surprise when there was hardly any movement at all on that blank expanse.

"I'm sorry, was that rude?" Chester wondered, glancing down at the aforementioned shell. It lay upon the floor where it had been left, looking shrunken and brittle without life to fill it. Glassy optics peered upward with blank disinterest.

"No, it wasn't rude. I was just not expecting you to ask about it."

"Oh."

Slick shadow reshaped itself like the flow of a dark tide, wrapping around and around Chester's lower half until he was bound in coils of solid obsidian. He was not frightened by his restraints. Rather than constricting, the embrace was cool and comforting. Tendrils teased along the open slates of armour all along his frame. His company snuggled so close that she could be felt over every inch of him.

"I've never been embraced by a spark-eater before," Chester mused.

"Consider that a good thing. If any other spark-eater did this to you, you would probably be dead," Grimm replied, wriggling so that she laid equal with Chester, obsidian bead optics meeting the soft blue glow of Cybertronian optics. "In answer to your previous question, yes, sensation is much sharper when I am not wearing my shell. I can feel you, and taste you..."

A dark green optic ridge arched. "Taste me? Why, Grimm, that sounds incredibly illicit."

"Your spark, Chester. I can taste your spark. It is no more illicit than you tasting your energon." Grimm flicked him on the tip of his olfactory sensor. It didn't hurt. Little droplets of herself flew away on impact, only to wriggle back to the main form like little black worms.

Chester caught her hand, turning it over in his grasp so that he could see its shape. His thumb traced whorls in the palm, creating ripples that travelled all the way up to the wrist. With just a thought, she went from having three long, pointed fingers to having a single tendril, elongating until it could wrap around his hand. She gave him a gentle squeeze, intimate and meaningful.

"You are the most incredible creature I have ever seen," Chester breathed, fascinated by her seemingly endless malleability. "Are you always able to do this? Being able to morph at will, I mean. It is a trait natural to spark-eaters?"

"Yes, it is," Grimm supplied with a certain amount of wariness. She wasn't sure yet how well Chester would handle all the details about herself or her kind. "This is the way all of us are."

With eagerness shining in his optics, Chester leaned in and asked, "Have you met many of your kind?"

"A few, but not many," Grimm admitted quietly, the trailing tip of her lower half swishing back and forth while making no noise at all. "We can't exactly congregate in large numbers... Bots like you might notice, especially when your kind starts dropping dead from so many spark-eaters being around."

He leaned back, optic ridges rising. "So I shouldn't worry about other bots on this base being more than what their resumes list?"

A dark, shapeless head shook back and forth in the negative. "No, don't worry. It's just me here."

"Would you tell me if there were other spark-eaters?" He tightened his arms to form an enticing embrace. blowing warm air down her dark shape.

Now she nodded in the positive, and might have been smiling if she possessed mouthplates. "Yes, I would."

"Amazing. Really. Wow." He grinned, illuminating his supernatural company with the flash of his optics. "I want to learn everything about you." He ran his fingers up the line of her back, tracing patterns through the slick mass of her intriguing body. "I don't know the stories of spark-eaters very well. There weren't many stories like it in the colonies. Can I assume that coming up from the Poles is not a regular behaviour for your kind?"

"Only during the Dark Season," Grimm admitted. "We come up when the nights are long so that we can feed."

"What made you come here permanently?"

"The war," she sighed. "For several Seasons, I wandered into the northern provinces in Tyger Pax and saw bots dying. Easy pickings, but there was so much pain - it made the sparks taste so bitter... Soon enough, I didn't even need to leave the South Pole to taste the pain. It carried on the aurora."

"That's... um, terrible," Chester grunted, not sure what else to say.  

"In its own way, it is. What a horrible thing it is to have a species in so much collective pain that their monsters can taste it at the ends of the world." A new tendril formed out of her chest, swirling around on Chester's chest as a finger might do so. "I wished that I could do something to help. Maybe it was a selfish desire, wanting to help my food source so it wasn't being poisoned anymore... That was at first. It's different now."

"Everything is different now," Chester murmured. "After you decided to go farm your own sparks-" he was elbowed for his impunity "-you came here?"  

"No, not exactly," Grimm replied, her smooth faceplate pinching. "It was a very long time before I was brave enough to climb inside a dead frame and pretend to be alive. No one I know has ever done it. Frame-snatchers take frames when the sparks are still inside, and spark-eaters only take the spark. Being inside the dead frame was terrifying at first- I thought I would be crushed by the weight of it, or I'd lose all my energy keeping up the little things that made it seem alive. I had to practice before I could be believable."

"Believable? Really?" Chester drawled bemusedly. "I think we need to work on the definition of that word."

"Almost believable," Grimm ceded with a humoured shrug. She had the occasional slip up, like a piece of her fell out of her shell or her shadow didn't quite match up with her movements. It was harder than it looked, casting a proper shadow. She had never needed to do it before she decided to pretend to be mortal.  

"So you decided to become a medic?"

"That was a fluke. The frame I found used to be a medic, so I took her memories when I climbed inside."

Chester's optics flashed with interest. "You can do that - steal memories?"

"Not really," Grimm mumbled. "It hurts a lot to try and connect to your processors. Incompatible systems or software, your kind would call it."

Now those blue optics narrowed. "If you don't have a processor, what do you think with? Wait, that's another rude question, isn't it?"

"No, it's not. I've never thought about what I think with. So long as I am able to think, it's never been a problem... I am terrible at calculus, though. Numbers do not come naturally to me as they do to your kind." Grimm shook her head. "It is the same problem with trying to figure out how I am alive. Without a spark, how am I here? I just am, that's the only answer I can think of."

Chester wrinkled his olfactory sensor. Answers like those made his battle computer itch... But he promised to be open-minded, and damn it if he was going to break that promise.

Grimm wrung her tendrils together, shaping them into hands once more. "It took a lot of practice before I was passable as mortal. I had a frame-snatcher friend teach me what he knew about living frames. Being a spark-eater gave me a bit of an edge, too... Like I said, I can taste sparks. It helps with diagnosis sometimes. I know who's lying and who's not – like Diamondback. I knew what he was for a while, but I couldn't say anything without risking my own secrets getting out." She bowed her featureless head. "I am so sorry I didn't warn anyone."

"Oh, Grimm," Chester breathed, holding her tight, rubbing his cheek to her cheek. "It's alright. It's not your fault. No damage done. Jazz and Prowl are fine – no one died from the attack... well, except for the ones you ate." He cleared his vents, dismissing it. "I am sorry you had to hide for so long."

Grimm rested quietly in her lover's embrace. This was not the first time she had ever lain with him. They had done so before on many occasions, though much of it was a learning experience for her. Before Chester, she had never been close to a normal Cybertronian – aside from the times when she had stolen away their sparks. Snuggling had been pleasurable, while interfacing had been more trouble than it was worth. Chester chalked up her inexperience to the fact that her mortal disguise was about as appealing as a drill to the head – not many would willing interface with someone like Grimm. Now he knew the truth. It was surprisingly pleasant to lay with him in her natural form, if not a little disturbing.

"You're taking this awfully well," she murmured with that hoarse voice of hers. The frightening effect of it was lessened without her frame getting in the way, but still had an unearthly quality to it. "Three orns ago, you were angry with me for telling you what I am. Actually, you spent two weeks feuding with me. And now you want to know all about my kind? That's a major paradigm shift, Chester. I can understand maybe accepting what I am, and tolerating me sticking around because you can't spare a medic, but this..."

"You underestimate how in love with you I am," Chester chastised. "Didn't you hear me say it in the sub-basement three orns ago? It happened right after you ate the sparks of two Decepticon and I did not  run away screaming. If that's not love, I don't know what is."

"Chester..."

"Before three orns ago, I was scared," he insisted. "You can't just tell a bot that everything he ever thought was a myth is actually real. That tends to mess with the basic laws of... well, reality."

"I wouldn't say everything mythological is real," Grimm hedged. "I can't confirm the existence of things like skitter bolts or door-rattlers. I think those are made up."

Plaid audio dials bobbed as Chester chuckled, shaking his head. "That is besides the point – but do remind me to question you about exactly how many other creatures happen to be sharing the planet with us ignorant mortals."

Grimm made a sound like gravel rolling around, her version of a chuckle. "Sure, I'll remind you... just so long as you promise to not freak out and refuse to talk to me for two weeks again. The first time was bad enough – nearly killed me."

That was enough to summon a well-deserved grimace. "I said I was sorry. I promise not to freak out again. From now on, I am going to be completely open-minded. It took some convincing to get used to the idea that the crazy, scary femme I happened to have fallen in love with happens to be a not-so-scary or crazy spark-eater. I just needed the chance to see what you really are and I am not afraid anymore. You're amazing."

"I think that is the first time a spark-eater has ever been called amazing," Grimm murmured, rippling throughout her entire body.

"That's because most bots don't know you exist." He leaned down, rubbing his forehead to the area vaguely above Grimm's beady optics – assuming it was her forehead. "If they knew-."

"No." Grimm jerked away, unravelling her coiled mass from around his frame. "Chester, you must never tell anyone what I am."

Chester levered up onto his elbow. "You can't be serious, Grimm. Bots have to know about this. They have to know about you."

"No, they don't. Things are fine just the way they are," Grimm insisted stubbornly.

"Things could be better, though. This could open up a whole new understanding of our world – maybe of the universe itself." He sat up properly, propping his back against the head of his berth. "Think about it! Something like this could turn the tides of the war for us. We could enlist other spark-eaters, or even frame-snatchers... A garrison made up of your kind could easily decimate a battalion of Decepticons. Think of the tactical advantages!"

"And that is exactly the reason why no one must know about me or my kind," Grimm stated solemnly. "I won't have you using my people as pawns in your war. I know you are an Autobot above all else, but I am not. I wish I was, but being a spark-eater comes first. I came up from the Poles to try and ease a little of the suffering, but most others like me want nothing to do with mortal problems. I protect their secrets just like I protect my own. Please understand that."

Tension drained from Chester's frame. "Yes, I understand."

"Thank you."

He shrugged haplessly. "My battle computer got away from me for a second. Of course I wouldn't use your kind as pawns. You are enough of a handful as it is. I can't imagine there being more of you around."

More gravelly laughter filled the dark air of Chester's quarters, causing Grimm's body to undulate fantastically. The sight tugged on Chester's spark, though he doubted it was because he was in such close proximity to a spark-eater. It was a comfortable and sweet moment - only to be cut short by the sound of a resounding bang that vibrated through the floors and walls. A moment later, emergency sirens blared to life and bots were shouting over the intercom. From the rooms around them, recharging bots were scrambling online, reaching for their weapons.

Chester lept to his feet and ran for the door, one hand to his audios as he demanded to know what was going on from whomever he was able to get a hold of.

"Damn it!" he swore, just as the door hissed open and the bright lights from the hall flooded in.

Grimm shrieked, whipping away before she could be burned.

"We're under attack. Decepticons are inside the compound," Chester announced, sticking his head out into the hall, only to duck back in when balls of burning plasma came barrelling down the corridor. "Grimm, quick, get back into your frame!"

"You have to close the door first!" she cried, looking desperately toward the shell she was cut off from. "I can't cross into the light!"

Chester was too busy returning fire down the hall, only half hearing the words of his exclusive. He ducked back in, heaving, head spinning with whatever kind of battle plan he could think of. He shot a desperate glance toward the fantastical, monstrous, beautiful creature trapped in the darkened corner of his quarters... and then to the ventilation grate above her.

"Okay, alright. Here's the plan – you are going to escape into the ventilation shaft. You may be a spark-eater, but you are also a medic and you are going to be desperately needed when this is over. Hide in the shafts until the base can be cleared. Once the coast is clear, come back for your shell and head to the med bay."

"What about you?" Grimm hissed.

"What do you think I'll be doing?" Chester hissed back, brandishing his transformed arm. "Just get going!"

"Fine, but don't get yourself killed!" Grimm leapt for the grate, wriggling and writhing her way past the narrow strips of metal.

Once the last of her dark form was out of sight, Chester turned to return fire once again... once to be confronted by a blaster in his faceplate.
Silly title is silly.

If you can come up with something better, I would really appreciate it. Full credit and everything. :thumbsup:

This is something of a sequel to another story I have on here called Spark Eater, which just so happens to be a spinoff from another story I have on FanFiction.Net called Where You and I Collide. Maybe you've heard of it? ;p

Since this story is continuing, here is the link to A Grimm Story II

Don't forget to leave a comment if you happen to read and enjoy! I love hearing from all of you! You are my only form of social life I have!


Transformers (c) HasTak
WE story universe, Grimm, and Chester (c) *ThornQueen
© 2012 - 2024 ThornQueen
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FlygonEffect413's avatar
Since I don't have a fanfiction.net account and it doesn't seem likely that Dad will be letting me get one anytime soon, I'll just post my review for "Where You and I Collide" here...

I cannot even put into words how much I love this fanfiction. It has a wonderful concept, very real characters,
I never really supported this ship, but I decided to read this out of pure interest. Congratulations. I ship them now.
If I may ask, what continuity is this based off of? I originally thought it was G1, but then I read that Ratchet's paint is/was yellow, so that made me think of the movie-verse. Or are you making your own Transformers world here?
One thing I was definitely not expecting was Blurr's introduction. He is undoubtedly my all-time favorite Transformers character, and it made me ridiculously happy to see him in the story, in an odd way. 
My favorite moments of the story were when Jazz makes Prowl fall off his chair, when Hunter and Jazz are giving Prowl grief, and when Jazz grabs Prowl by the doorwing and drags him into the elevator. 
I love how you've developed Jazz's character. I've never seen him portrayed in this way before, and I love how his personality clashes so brilliantly with Prowl's - and the other Autobots. 
Prowl is also quickly edging his way up my favorites list. I adore how he's written in this story, and you make all of the characters so deep and three-dimensional... I envy your skill.
Also, I'm impressed with how you continue to use Cybertronian units of time in your stories. I have yet to perfect that with my stories.
I also adore Blackhawk and Nightbeat. They're so... How to put it... adorably odd? I don't even know.

And now I guess I'll say what I think of this...
It's very cool. I like seeing more backstory on the characters, especially those at the Tyger Pax outpost. They seem like a happy little community. It's especially interesting learning more about this particular character; I have been wondering about her for a while now. 
It's a very interesting storyline, and I commend you for having such great ability to weave literature. You're a lot better than I am.