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Hearts are like paper
Taken for granted
Yet a part of all of us, everywhere
A piece of paper is like a heart
Has a million uses
Yet is abused constantly
Crude, lewd scribbles and scrawl
Rips, tears, stains
Folding, hiding the bad
Thrown away when used up
But in bad there is good
Paper hearts can be set aflame
burned, cut, torn, crumpled, defaced
But there is the whiteout of supportive words
The cooling water of a hug
The tape of a lasting friendship
The healing hands of acceptance
Rouge, Full Biography
Nicknames: Reav, Rouge, "rouge bot, "you slagging traitor"
Race: Artificial Cybertronian
Colors: Silver armor, black protoform, cyan highlights and details.
Creation date: December 4
Weapons- Matter Dissembler Blasters, a single barrel prototype that looks like Bumblebee's blasters, in which the cannon fires both blasterfire and Rad-bolts, the latter causing atoms to release the chemical bonds between them, in essence creating a contained nuclear explosion within the target and wiping their very essence from the universe. His arsenal also includes a tooled grappling rod[ a sort of staff that shoots grappling hooks and has a knife on the other end], fold-out claws and swords like Megatron's.
Talents: Intimidation, or as he puts it, "scaring the bejeezus out of people," and essesntially avoiding the entire Decepticon army for five years.
Accomplishments: Mass murdering counts as an accomplishment, right...?
Flashback 2 As Reaver let the frame of the broken warrior fall off his claws, he picked up a slight whimper from behind him. Half turning, Energon dripping from his digits, he peered through the smoke and dust, he saw a movement; just a flicker. The mech swiveled and loped towards it, revealing itself as he got close to be a small femme, huddled behind one of the larger pieces of what was once the rooms berth. She squeaked as he got near and tried to make herself as small as possible.
The Decepticon cackled and reached down to seize her by the throat, lifting her in the air. The soft cries as she struggled against his servo, which was easily the size of her helm, made him grin with bloodlust.
"Well, now. What have we here? A little Autobot, trying to hide? Too late." His optic swirled through the reds and purples of the color spectrum, revealing his emotions from hate to insanity. The femmes clawed at his ser
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More