allhailtheauri

[allhailtheauri]

Runway ranaway

[allhailtheauri]

Something I would like to point out while rewatching HTTYD2 that I think is very interesting and also not at all talked about is this.

HTTYD2 brings lots and I mean LOTS of parallels whether they are visual or spoken but the one I hear spoken about the most is between Hiccup and Valka and them not killing a dragon. Even the movie tries to make this seem like a parallel. They bring it up even!

“Ehh it runs in the family.” Hiccup says after the flashback scene.

But something I noticed is that it is not a parallel. Mainly because of a few key things. It’s more almost perpendicular. They head in the same direction and they have the same realization, then go in complete opposite directions.

Valka runs away. A key part of her character I’ve noticed while I’ve been writing my analysis of her is that she oozes of cowardice and willful ignorance. Now that doesn’t mean she’s a bad person, it simply means that she ran away and chose to stay away. But that’s not the main reason I brought this up.

Remember the flashback where they draw attention to how similar Hiccup and Valka are? They talk about it in a very specific way.

They bring attention to two points. Both of them looked into a dragons eye and saw themself. Then they both didn’t kill a dragon. They show this as some kind of parallel. Maybe to show that Hiccup has someone who understands him, maybe to add a bit of layering to the first movie and how he’s just like her.

But it’s not a parallel.

What’s the difference in this scene?

One dragon is tied up.

One isn’t.

It’s a matter of choice.

“You and your father nearly died that night. All because I couldn’t kill a dragon.” Quote Valka.

“300 years and I’m the first Viking who wouldn’t kill a dragon.” Quote Hiccup.

Hiccups statement STILL rings true. Valka had no choice in if she wanted to kill Cloudjumper or not. That’s why I brought up Valka’s cowardice. Valka was in a trapped house with an injured newborn and an unbound dragon 5x her size. She was in the middle of a raid with people all around. Stoick was around the corner. She simply couldn’t kill the dragon. It wasn’t a matter of would or wouldn’t.

Hiccup on the other hand was alone in a forest with a tied up dragon. He made the decision to not kill Toothless. He wouldn’t. Because he absolutely could have killed Toothless.

“I was a coward. I was weak. I wouldn’t kill a dragon.”

“You said wouldn’t that time.”

This scene (in my own opinion) is meant to show that Hiccup was never the hiccup. He was never a coward. He wasn’t weak. It’s meant to be ironic.

Hiccup let go one of the most dangerous dragons in the world and it was brave. He went against his culture, his tribe because he thought it was the right thing to do.

That’s where Valka and Hiccups story become perpendicular. Hiccup was brave. Valka was a coward.

Hiccup chose not to run away. He chose to change their minds. He thought their minds could change.

Valka ran away. She didn’t listen and didn’t think change was possible. She held this belief until Hiccup comes along.

Valka’s path is where she believes that dragons are more than they seem. Then, “This wasn’t a viscous beast, but an intelligent gentle creature whose soul, reflected my own.” She has the revelation. Then she runs away and stays away. Now she had her own reasons and I am very much phrasing this in a biased way but it’s meant to show a point. She stays away and doesn’t change much. Because she couldn’t kill a dragon.

Hiccups path is where he does not see much to dragons. He wants to kill one to be accepted into the village. He shoots down Toothless and- “Everything we know about you guys, is wrong.” Or- “I looked at him and saw myself.” Hiccup and Valka’s paths cross here. But Hiccup doesn’t run away and he changes Berk’s mind. Because he wouldn’t kill a dragon.

Anyways I think that’s about it for that topic and I think it should be discussed more! Because if you really think about it, there are almost no parallels in Valka and Hiccup. And if there are, it isn’t well executed enough that it leaves a strong impact. I definitely will talk about this more but it’s late and I crave sleep.

[allhailtheauri]

OUGHHH FELLA YOU AND YOUR GORGEOUS BRAIN DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOUVE DONE

youve given me sooo soo many ideas thank you hehhhehhuehhh

unfortunately getting hit with 100 raw unfiltered emotions is not always so funny and cute :)

[allhailtheauri]

do you like transformers: animated? here’s my collection of all episodes, shorts, allspark almanacs, tie-in comics, and manga for TFA archived and available for download! 

[allhailtheauri]

I put way too much effort into this.

[allhailtheauri]

A bunch of unfinished designs and such

[allhailtheauri]

YAYYY!! Chapter 2 is out for this fic! Go and give it a read! @evtraininguniversity literally died for this chapter.

[allhailtheauri]

Starscream poster… save me Starscream poster…

i think 7.5 is definitely one of my favourite parts of this story! was the static starscream getting embarassed? what do you think would get his face glowing? huaahah

Thank you!!! I really enjoyed writing that one!!

Here is some crack... pure crack. I'M SORRYYYY

Mentor Starscream x seeker!reader (10/?)

Each bot carried a number of things in their subspace at all times. Ratchet carried an innumerable variation of medical tools, medical-grade energon, and indelible knowledge of what a spark felt like as it slipped through his servos. Starscream carried datapads, a specific type of energon jelly he knew you liked when rations allowed, and the insurmountable grief that accompanied the condemnation of being alone. Megatron, presumably, carried enough hatred to power the entire solar system and then some, but you wisely choose not to think too hard about that.

Now that Starscream was trying to cement your necessity to the Decepticon cause, you'd added a couple of important datapads to your subspace. In addition to bandages (you'd wanted to store the welder in your subspace, too, but Starscream vehemently disallowed it because it would unnecessarily weigh your frame down in flight. After some protesting on your part, he finally ex-vented and promised that he wouldn't get himself injured someplace you couldn't fix him), some energon jellies for after training (courtesy of Starscream), and... a crumpled poster.

You'd kept a memento from your time at the Academy - it was one of your most closely guarded secrets, because you'd perish on the spot from pure and utter embarrassment if anyone found out.

A poster of Starscream.

Back at the Academy, it would have been impossible to find a wall that hadn't fallen victim to the onslaught of posters - before the ones advertising the war effort against the Quintessons had taken over, the posters had been primarily motivational and featured high-profile seekers. Many of the cadets idolized Sunstorm - your roommate even had a wall full of stolen Sunstorm posters. His golden frame in flight, a glowing halo framing his helm. You agreed that Sunstorm was cool, but deep down, your idol was Starscream. There was no shortage of glossy Starscream posters around the Academy, and whoever ran the show had clearly poured a huge percentage of the budget into making new posters every semester. Many of them were illustrated, for reasons that had actually been explained before - Vosian illustrators tended to be trained in capturing the feeling of flight, rather than the appearance of it. You'd always been drawn to the posters of Starscream because of the emotions they sparked within you - Pride. Determination. Spark-lightening liberation. However, it was the final semester before the end of your first year when the publicity department had apparently decided they'd had enough of paintings, and it was time to try something new. Well, new. Ironically, it was a return to traditional photography.

When the new posters came out, you'd stared at it for so long that your roommate had come to drag you back before curfew, took one look at the poster and burst out laughing.

It was the cheesiest thing you'd ever seen. Starscream, hip cocked and a smug grin on his faceplate, pointing at the camera. SOAR HIGH! The poster enthused, in a garish font and colour that quite frankly hurt your optics. REACH FOR THE STARS!

You opened your intake, closed it. Reset your vocaliser twice. You were sure that your wings were vibrating at this point. To make matters worse... "Is Commander Starscream winking?" Your roommate wheezed, and a few cycles later, it was you who had to drag them back to your dorm instead other other way around before you were caught sneaking around after hours.

It was on the same day you'd all been given your celebratory allowance of high-grade jet fuel - amidst all the reveling, your roommate had elbowed their way through the crowd to you with a huge grin on their faceplate. "I have something for you," They said cheerily, and shoved a slightly crumpled roll of paper into your servos. Even without looking, you already knew what it was, and the garish pop of colour as soon as you unfurled it slightly only confirmed your suspicions. "Come on," You groan. "Couldn't you have stolen me one of the cooler ones?"

"I could have," They said. "But the look on your faceplate wouldn't be as hilarious." More laughter as you groan and bury your burning faceplate in your hands. "But," They continue thoughtfully, "don't you think this one kinda humanizes him a little?"

Huh. That night, you're still turning your roommate's words over in your processor. It's kind of endearing, in its own way. You'd never have imagined that Starscream would allow himself to be photographed in such a way, and it's kind of growing on you. You suppose it does break up the monotony of his previous posters somewhat. And that wink... Blushing furiously, you hide your face in your servos and thank your lucky stars that your roommate is sound asleep, so you don't get teased into the dirt.

That poster ended up being the only evidence that you had a roommate, because they didn't survive the attack. Not for lack of searching. You'd searched and searched, and found an arm. You stopped searching after that.

The poster had been stashed deep in your subspace for as long as you could remember. That was another thing you carried. Two things, actually. One, your guilt at being the only one left, and two, your embarrassing little crush on Starscream. Further guilt at allowing the two conflicting feelings to coexist may as well have been a third thing.

However, the years of war had more or less put a damper on dwelling on the past, because threats in the present were far more immediate. You decided it was a good thing that you'd been stuck in emotional limbo for a while now. Primus knows what would become of you if your emotions came back full force at this point.

It's a relatively quiet day when your little slip-up happens. Ever since you became entrusted with datapads needed for officers' meetings, you and Starscream had a brief routine in which you'd double-check that everything was accounted for before heading out. The only thing was that last night's recharge had been fraught with nightmares, and you couldn't deny the exhaustion that fogged your processor. As such, you were not functioning as well as you would have liked to be.

"Reports of the last mission?"

You place it in his outstretched servo. "Check."

"The one on Autobot activity."

"Check."

"Preliminary results of the Terran soil analysis."

Terran soil analysis? You dig around in your subspace. That sounded familiar. You definitely had it, but maybe you'd stashed it way back because you hadn't anticipated Megatron wanting to hear about soil samples. You frown, and dig a little further. Fingertips just managing to brush against something, and that must be it -

"Check," You quickly say, before Starscream can get impatient.

There's a few kliks of silence, which strikes you as strange, because Starscream normally carries a minimum of ten datapads into these meetings. You glance up at him, a question on your glossa - but as soon as you realise what he's looking at, your expression rapidly morphs to match his in one of utter mortification.

No.

Starscream's optic twitches. He holds the offending poster at arms' length - as if trying to put some distance between it and his frame.

It's that horrific poster of him. He'd fought tooth and nail not to have it published, because it was just so embarrassing. Unfortunately, he'd been overruled by the Academy's senior council, who for some Primus-forsaken reason absolutely loved it.

For the greater good! They'd said. The cadets look up to you, Starscream, it would do good to closen the distance between you, so they understand that they can one day be like you.

"Fine," Starscream had snarled, but was only too glad when they'd finally been removed.

Vorns later, he thought he was finally free of that - apparently not.

You can feel his accusing optics on you.

"Cadet."

"...Yes, sir."

"Care to tell me why this is in your possession?"

You gnaw at your lip plates.

"I'm waiting."

You shuffle your pedes. "Um," You mumble.

Why, indeed, had you kept it?

Defeated, you know you know the answer but have no chance of hiding it, because Starscream can absolutely tell when you're lying.

"I know it's one of the weirder ones," You mutter, thankfully missing the twitch of Starscream's optic, "but I liked your posters because of how they made me feel. Because of how you made me feel. Like I could do anything. Like as long as I worked hard, it would pay off, because you cared enough about us to see it happen."

You can't stop now that you've started. "If I had a choice, though, I would have picked the one where you're in your altmode at the edge of the stratosphere because that one was super cool, and I always wondered what it would be like to fly alongside you like that, as an equal. But it's okay because this poster makes me hope that we're not too far apart after all, it's kinda silly but it reminds me that you're my commander and hopefully you know that I really, really admire you -"

A choked crackle of static (mercifully) cuts your ramble off before you can embarrass yourself further.

"Sir?"

You chance a look at Starscream, and what you see renders you completely unable to retain fine motor control of your faceplate. This time, you really wish you could preserve his expression on a poster.

Starscream, former Air Commander of Vos, feared SIC of the Decpticons, is blushing.

You watch with rapt fascination as the blue blush of energon rises to settle prettily across his cheeks, only intensifying the more he stares at the poster. Now he's the one who's adamantly refusing to meet your optics.

"You -"

"Sorry, I misspoke, I shouldn't have-"

"No," Starscream cuts in. His voice is raspier than usual.

"It's... it's fine."

He glances once more at the rapidly fraying poster in his servos before shoving it back towards you.

"...But don't let me see that thing again."

You quickly roll it up and shove it back into your subspace. Now you definitely can't get rid of it.

Starscream still can't quite clear the static from his vocaliser, nor the blush on his faceplate. You take mercy on him and remain silent, lest his cooling fans kick on. It's probably for the best that he doesn't find out about the Commander Starscream Academy Fan Club.

"Now. Terran soil samples?"

Previous /

Edit: THE POSTER in all its technicolour glory by @bonkkix !!!!!

[allhailtheauri]

@allhailtheauri Ty for this mental image I love old man Ratchet 😭😭

[allhailtheauri]

he’s a fairy

[allhailtheauri]

Skyfire doing science, please!!

does something smart ✍️ (sorry it took so long)

and something goes off plan- (it exploded)

[allhailtheauri]

@allhailtheauri Ty for this mental image I love old man Ratchet 😭😭

[allhailtheauri]

I made this gif 8 or 9 months ago, I still love it so much <3 Reposting it as I deleted the original post on my old blog

[allhailtheauri]

horses made me transgender

[allhailtheauri]

Mentor Starscream x reader!seeker (9/?)

Starscream has somehow… gotten you a new set of wings (don’t question it don’t question it). Your suffering at the hands of Megatron is the last straw, acting as the trigger point for Starscream’s first attempt to assassinate Megatron. It goes as well as you’d think. There is a cave involved.

It is 3am BUT one more ramble before my week of holidays end (sob sob)!!

—

The feeling that something is wrong stirs you back to the land of the living.

Your frame feels... off.

For some reason, you feel heavier than usual, and you struggle to make sense of the freshly pinging sensors in your... new set of wings.

You have a new set of wings.

You hear a voice - Knockout? - shouting in alarm as you scramble up with a clatter to inspect a set of wings that aren't yours. Not your paint. Not in a shape you recognised. Not yours, not yours, not yours - it feels so wrong to be bolted to someone else, someone you don’t know - where did these come from? The thought slams with dizzying force into your processor and you fall still, suddenly icy with terror. You're wearing a dead bot's wings. The realisation launches you into a blind panic. “Get them off!” You screech, vocaliser glitching. Any way you move, you can see them, feel them - had wings always been so heavy? Knockout’s servos on your freshly repaired, overly sensitive frame only drive you even further into a frenzy even as he’s trying to stop you from tearing at your wings - shouting into his comm over the cacophony of terror that rings through your processor. Just as you think you’re really going to lose it, you’re all at once bathed in the reassurance of a familiar EM field, which douses the worst of your panic. You slowly become aware of thrumming warmth around you, red and blue paint, a neon orange cockpit. Arms cradling you tightly, as if afraid you were going to fall apart, and the low croon of Vosian in your audials. Starscream.

You immediately latch onto him, greedily soaking in the comfort of his EM field. There’s no doubt you’re making a mess of his frame with coolant and energon but Starscream pays it no mind. He pulls you onto his lap, a large servo cupping the back of your helm to securely tuck your faceplate into his neck as you shudder against him, frame wracked with sobs.

“No more pain,” Starscream murmurs, and you allow yourself to be soothed by the high trills and clicks of your native tongue. Comfort doesn’t last long, though - you involuntarily press closer to Starscream, and that tiny movement sends a sense of wrongness shooting through your frame, clumsy with a heaviness you’re not used to - reminding you all over again that you have someone else’s wings.

“It feels wrong,” You hiccup, “My wings - what happened to my wings-?”

Starscream’s arms tighten around you.

“I promised you would fly again,” He murmurs. “These are your wings now.”

“B-but how?”

You go still in his grasp, stiff as a board. “Who?”

The servo stroking your helm stills.

The few nanokliks where you hold your breath, awaiting his answer, are tortuous.

“…Long gone.”

You pull back to look at him properly. Worry twists his sharp features, but his optics hold yours steadily.

Your servos dig into his arms. “Promise?”

Behind you, you don’t see Knockout turn away to hide the expression on his faceplate. One of you is accustomed to lying, and it’s not Knockout.

Starscream’s answering rasp is gentle as it is hypnotic.

“…Promise.”

You have no reason not to trust him.

——

Everything after you leave Knockout’s med bay feels strangely normal. There is no ‘aftermath’, no dramatic change to the status quo. You are merely another statistic in Megatron’s ever-growing list of cruel deeds.

The only difference is that Starscream is strangely jumpy. He’s constantly tense, on high alert every time you hear pedesteps outside your shared habsuite - deliberately evasive, and somehow, you see even less of him than you usually do.

No one gives you a hard time, either. It’s all so weirdly normal that you’re more or less prepared to shrug it off, pass it off as another busy period - perhaps Megatron is planning another offensive. The ghostly pains that flash through your frame aren’t that bad, and it wouldn’t be the first time you barely get to see Starscream, anyway.

That is, until you’re circling the grassy plain in your altmode one evening, prepared to finish your training for the day. You’d been spending more time trying to get used to your new wings - broader wingspan, greater speed - flying feels better than ever, but from high above the ground, you spot him next to your landing pad. Waiting for you.

You land, precisely, perfectly, the way he taught you. You hope he’s pleased - but instead of the approval you hoped for, there’s something strange in his expression as he watches you.

“Listen carefully,” Starscream rasps. His frame is still, even as a gust of wind ruffles the Terran grass around you. “Go to these coordinates. Do not let yourself be found at any cost.”

You hadn’t wanted to admit it for a while, but he’s frightening you.

“Sir?”

Starscream’s optics are strangely bright, glittering with an unsettling sheen.

“Now.”

You want to argue. Want to insist he tell you what’s been eating away at him for countless solar cycles. But the way he looks at you is almost pleading. Needing you to play your part in whatever he’s planned. Even as you take to the air, his optics never leave yours. His severe posture, his unreadable expression, are burned into your processor as you speed to the coordinates he’s given you, even as you can’t shake the unsettling feeling.

The coordinates he’s given you lead to energon mine, a cave system so far off the grid for both Terrans and Cybertronians alike that you actually feel relatively secure being here. How had Starscream even known about this location? Another thought springs unbidden to your processor.

Had he been keeping this location from Megatron?

A prickling feeling of unease crawls up your spinal strut. I mean, you know this is not normal. None of this has ever been normal. But a cave? Which was starting to feel more and more like a hideout?

Solar cycles pass. You desperately try to keep yourself from succumbing to panic by tasking yourself to dig raw energon from the rocky walls of the cave, a repetitive activity that keeps you just the least bit grounded. You should never have left Starscream alone. Surely he would come for you. Surely he was okay.

You get your answer a few joors later in the form of an explosive comm. Knockout’s voice blasts tersely into your audials.

“-treason. Failed attempt to assassinate Megatron. Stand by.”

Suddenly, the abundance of energon you’d dug out seemed lacking for the imminent disaster.

Treason?

There was no way. There was no way Starscream would go to such lengths - their was no way he had tried to -

Had he?

The acrid smell of spilt energon and the screaming roar of engines on full speed give you your answer.

Knockout staggers into view as he more or less drags Starscream’s limp frame into the cave. You can barely recognise your commander with the amount of energon that coats his battered frame, and you choke back a sob as you stumble forwards to meet them.

“Megatron knew,” Knockout says through gritted denta, as he lowers Starscream to the ground. “Starscream tried to - he wanted to take over. But Soundwave found out.”

Knockout’s yanking an assortment of medical tools from his subspace, tools clattering across the cold floor.

“His null ray may as well have been useless because Megatron saw it coming. But he decided to repay Starscream in kind.” The smoking hole in Starscream’s chassis tells you all you need to know.

“These are all the tools I can spare without drawing suspicion. As of now, Megatron thinks that Starscream managed to get away from base, but has sustained life-threatening injuries in the process and therefore… will succumb sooner or later.”

The look he gives you is apologetic, knowing, and regretful all at once. “My intake is sealed, cadet,” He says.

“I hope we meet again, if Primus wills it.”

With a squeal of tires, Knockout is gone.

That leaves only you and Starscream. Starscream, who has a gaping hole in his chassis and is losing energon fast.

“Oh, frag,” You chant, throwing yourself at Knockout’s medical supplies, “Frag, frag, frag - ”

Starscream twitches, a pained frown on his faceplate - had he heard that?

“Stay with me,” You mutter, as you finally find the tool you’re looking for. Thank Primus for Ratchet. Factions be damned, you’ll send him a fragging gift basket if Starscream pulls through. Knockout had left you a jar of nanites - you frantically dump all of them into the jagged hole that mars Starscream’s chassis, so dangerously close to his spark - and pray that his self-repairing mechanisms kick into gear as you get to work.

By some miracle, his frame doesn’t reject your attempts to fix him - but it’s only joors later that you dare to hope that he’ll make it, after all. The gaping hole left my Megatron’s cannon looks better, if you can call it that - no longer as devastating now that you’ve soldered wires and fuel lines back together, waiting for mesh to knit itself together again. Now, you just need him to wake up because the rapidly growing pool of energon beneath him isn’t doing your nerves any favours and he had to be online to ingest the energon you’d dug out, replenish his drained systems.

Exhausted, you desperately wave a chunk of raw energon in front of his faceplate.

“Sir. Sir, it’s me. Wake up!”

You put it down to the chunk of energon, but by some divine intervention, Starscream’s systems do sputter to life immediately after - he immediately groans when the pain inevitably hits, but it’s much more manageable compared to the last memory stored in his processor. Megatron raising his cannon, optics cold. Searing heat in his chassis before the explosion of agony, crumpling to the ground, energon pouring over his servos, restraints, unforgiving blows, pain, pain, pain - “Sir!”

His optics snap open.

Your faceplate above his, frantic. It’s you. You’re safe. He’s not there anymore.

“Where - ?”

“The coordinates you gave me.” Starscream can see that you’re trying incredibly hard to keep it together, plates drawn tight and frame quivering. There’s a streak of energon on your faceplate - his? Before he can think, he’s reaching a trembling servo up to cup your faceplate, thumb stroking over your cheek. “It’s been a few solar cycles.”

Coolant - is that coolant dripping down your faceplate? You lean into his servo, unable to hold back an ex-vent of relief at the warmth of his frame - proof that he’s still alive.

“I’m here,” He rumbles, as if you’re the one who needs reassuring, as if he’s not the one with a smoking hole in his chassis. “Told you I wouldn’t be so easy to get rid of, didn’t I?”

A lame attempt at normalcy, but it seems to work - you huff out a weak laugh, shaking your helm as you reach for a roll of bandages.

“I just welded these,” You say. “We don’t have Knockout anymore, so it’s probably better to keep your welds bandaged while they’re fresh.”

Ah. That was another question that had been brewing in Starscream’s processor as he slowly came back online. Knockout had fixed the hole in his chassis, right? He was the only one who had the knowledge to do so - and yet, glancing around the cave, bandages and medical tools were strewn haphazardly around, as if they’d been left in a hurry. Knockout’s perfectionist streak would never have allowed that. There’s something he’s missing here. His optics slide to you, your glossa poking out and faceplate furrowed in concentration as you wrap his arm.

With a critical eye, Starscream watches you work for a few kliks. “When did your bandaging get to be passably neat?”

You freeze, mid-wrap.

Well. He’s in no condition to whoop your aft. You might as well come clean, since you’re more or less on your own side right now.

“I asked Ratchet to teach me,” You mutter.

Starscream stiffens.

“…The Autobot medic?”

Oh boy.

“The one and only.”

“How-? You can’t have - oh.”

Abruptly, Starscream falls silent. Rendering him speechless is no easy task, but you’re not sure whether this is the right time for celebration.

“That was what you were doing.”

You resolutely do not meet his optics, stubbornly continuing to bandage his welds.

Too weak to hide it, his EM field tells you all you need to know, anyway.

Static distorts his vocaliser as his voice rises in a screech. “How could you be so reckless?”

Even while prone and severely injured, it seems that the idea of you in danger is enough to spur him back to life. Maybe you should have recounted your misadventures to him earlier.

“And for what?” Starscream continues to rant. “What if they’d kept you captive? What if they tortured you? Did you even think about what happens to prisoners of war - ”

“It worth it,” You interrupt, “because it was for you.”

Silence descends abruptly upon you both.

You chance a look at Starscream - his intake is hanging open, optics wide. It would be funny, if it weren’t for the severe injuries and the whole cave and treason situation.

…Okay, so maybe it is a little bit funny. Meanwhile, Starscream’s systems have more or less gone haywire - you hear the telltale sound of a reboot.

Him?

You -

You got yourself captured -

For him.

For - had you been anticipating this?

He’d never questioned how you managed to repair him every time, when all the puzzle pieces were right in front of him.

Yet another thing he had failed to factor in.

…Did you really care that much? Was he really worth so much to you?

He’s definitely spiralling. Worriedly, you wave a servo in front of his faceplate.

“Hello? Earth to Commander Starscream.”

Starscream’s optics cycle and narrow in, razor-sharp, onto your faceplate.

You brace yourself for another scolding - but unexpectedly, just when you think he’s about to bust a fuel line, a tired ex-vent is all that leaves him.

“I told you I’d find out eventually.”

You remain silent, unsure what he wants to hear from you.

“The truth, cadet,” Starscream says, optics narrowed. Almost as if he could hear your thoughts - then again, he’d always been able to read you easily.

“You did the repairs? All by yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Because Ratchet taught you?”

“…Yes.”

“Because you snuck off to learn how to do so.”

The last one sounds more like a statement than a question, but you defiantly lift your chin, meeting his optics to answer anyway.

“Yes.”

Come what may, you need him to know you don’t regret your decision. Today has simply proved to you that your gamble had paid off.

After a moment, Starscream ex-vents, but reaches a servo out to you - you help him sit up, leaning against a rock, and his servos gently curl around your wrist to pull you into a delicate embrace.

“One day I’m going to have a spark attack if you keep worrying me like that,” He scolds, but it’s gentle. Even now, worrying about you, as if he’s not the one who’s grievously injured right now.

You mash your faceplate against his good shoulder. Silence is the best option right now, you think. The second-best option is to make sure Starscream fuels up on enough energon to finish self-repairs, and you are a mech of many talents, so you grope blindly around for a chunk of raw energon and shove it in the general direction of Starscream’s intake.

Muffled sounds of indignant outrage tell you you’ve probably hit your mark. Whether out of necessity or to humour you, Starscream accepts it anyway.

The colour of his frame is looking much better, but he’ll need a few solar cycles at least to regain full functionality.

When you meet Starscream’s optics again, you know that you’re both thinking the same thing - you’ve bought yourselves precious time to consider your next steps.

Previous / Previous bonus /

[allhailtheauri]

am i allowed to say future Cadet and Starscream with their sparkling if they have one.

if not, Thundercracker is the baby.

my brain is actually just filled with @radioactiverats Cadet fanfic. ragh.

small scream ^

[allhailtheauri]

FYI iPhone users!