galaxyshuttle

[galaxyshuttle]

'Hard to miss; Rodimus Prime'

What a wonderful description in a space port. He's probably seen a poster or broadcast in his quantum leap sleeps, but that doesn't tell him frame type, size, colou- No, wait. He knew that name. Fire themed racer, right?

Because someone fits the description of 'spicy' from the excited rocking on their pedes, and vigorous scanning of the passing crowds moving among the stalls. Likely, they were probably looking for someone on par to them in size, a captain, crew, loading staff. You know, someone with a ship.

Probably isn't expecting the actual ship to lean down and tap him as the shuttle came in from the landing pads behind him.

"Meteor surfer?" Deepspace rumbled, pretty sure he had his client.

Oh, he was excited.

It felt like it had been forever since he got to go meteor surfing and Primus had it been itching at him. He was practically bounding on the tips of his pedes as he waited for the mech he hired for the task.

His optics scanned around as he waited at the designated meeting spot, hoping that the short description of himself had been sufficient for the other to recognize.

He kept a hand over the subspace compartment that he had the payment stored away in, not wanting any little pickpockets ruining things.

[galaxyshuttle]

"Excuse you, manners" Deepspace mutters at the pathetic little hiss of intimidation as the little creature goes right back to inhaling energon like a fat little straw.

A cigar of sass, even.

Just going to keep slowly lowering the cube of fuel and raising his snake filled servos till they either get their silly little noggin above the energon, or take a breath again. He didn't want it to frantically refuel, and then purge after such a sharp influx of full tanks.

"You aren't getting more if you spit all of that back up" The shuttle warns, deciding given a quarter of the cube was gone and this sustained him, that was enough for Mech Spaghetti. Sorry, Darkfang, but Deepspace's turn to just tip the cube up and finish the rest to stow the empty cube away.

"All done. All gone"

Thirsty like he hadn't had energon in ages. Like a starved cybersnake, he swallowed gulp after gulp. Helm partially submerged within the energon. Delicious free fuel. Can't resist. Must have it all. The Mech's comments, not a bother. Yes, he was small compared to him. Completely harmless little thing. He wondered, how'd harmless he'd found him if he found a hole to crawl into. That is, if he didn't get squished by his insides if he crawled under a plate.

The cube tilted, the movement caused Darkfang to lift his helm enough to hiss with open jaws. Jaws that soon closed, continuing to hiss, while energon bubbled to the surface. Hissing under liquid, smart, and oh, now, he's hiding further into the cube. How much was even left? Oh, well, his whole helm was there now. As if rebelling against the Mech's words. Make it worse. Perfect.

He'd shove his whole self in there if he could, but he held back the urge. Sip, sip, handful of liquid into his intake. His frame rattled, scale plates readjusting in a wave as they smoothed along his long frame. He felt less tense, more, loose, more full. His optics, shifted upwards, staring at the Mech. Glossa poked out from his mouth, licked at the energon as he gradually lifted up his helm to have most of his snout out of the energon. Tanks, nearly to full capacity, any more, and he'd probably burst it.

[galaxyshuttle]

📜 //Darkfang :3c

Send in 📜 and I’ll use this incorrect quotes generator using your muse and my muse. (Please specify how many muses//which muses for multimuse blogs!!)

[galaxyshuttle]

Send in 📜 and I’ll use this incorrect quotes generator using your muse and my muse. (Please specify how many muses//which muses for multimuse blogs!!)

[galaxyshuttle]

Well, he suddenly has three noodley children from a ... Far from normal 'fling'.

Guess we are making a terrarium for them; One third, flat basking rocks enjoy overhead head lamps on. One third, fine sand for burrowing into or sunning themselves. One third, a great tangle of gnarled branches, lush vegetation, high humidity, and a little flowing pond.

His noodles will live wonderful lives.

[galaxyshuttle]

How the scrap is he gonna--? He's climbing the shuttle, using one servo and his pedes and tail. There, servo length. His occupied servo, carrying a small bag, was soon emptied upon Deepspace's servo. A bundle of small cybersnakes, three in total. Have fun, cause quickly as it was done, Darkfang hopped off and ran away without explanation.

Wait...

Is he now Sire to some noodles?!

[galaxyshuttle]

"Oh, I know. I know. So spooky" Deepspace murmured at the little gurgle of a hiss within his palms, keeping his movements slow for the little 'creature'. But, either they were just quite curious from how the helm seemed to turn to follow the minute movements of the energon cube, or this little thing knew exactly what energon looked and or smelt like.

But oh, my, Primus.

"Thirsty little noodle, aren't you"

First the little blep against the surface of the energon, glossa retreating to process the 'Oh, energon!' realisation, and the little thing was practically submerging their helm to gulp fuel. How long had they been out here!? Were they some exotic their owner couldn't keep up with and had dumped? Was he a stowaway, far from home? Had it woken from stasis into a drastically different world that it remembered? Poor little thing.

"Alright Greedy Guts, breathe" Deepspace chuckles, carefully lowering the cube one way and tilting his palms backwards to ensure this thing didn't suck energon down the wrong tube. He wouldn't even know how to pat out fuel down the wrong pipe with something that lacked shoulders.

Retreating servo, helm followed it, observed for any signs of danger. A small rumbling hiss came out, only to quieten when the energon cube came into sight. Oh, not a trap. Optics followed the energon like a magnet, like one was tangling a delicious treat before him. His frame quite pleased by the thought of shoving his snout in there.

But he needed to pretend, to not be so eager, so excited. He slithered towards the open cube, forked glossa flicked at air. Sensors active, and when his glossa finally hit the surface of the energon. A tingle ran up it, and back into his jaws it went. Mm, delicious, energon.

Few more flicks of his glossa. The tip dived into the energon, lapped at it like a hungry little snake. To be fed? To be spoiled? Unable to resist, to stay, to act, like no more than a cybersnake. His snout gradually sank further, until the tip pressed into the energon. His metal plates of his face shifted, to adjust for the ability to pull the liquid into his intake with each hungry gulp.

His golden optics dimmed, from joy, frame relaxed to drink his fill. His frame needed it and any free energon, was like a snack. Did he feel bad fooling the Mech? No, not really. He was a survivor, and sometimes you had to be dirty to enjoy the good parts of life.

[galaxyshuttle]

"....." As far as posts for the job datanet go, this certainly was up there in weird. Some mech wanted to be taken out to the nearest planet, have the ship in question remain in the gravitational pull of coming into orbit for the burning up on entry effect, and take a space walk outside the ship.

"...................." It wasn't impossible. He could absolutely do that. But this fragger is going to die silent in the vacuum of space where screams are inaudible, so we are going to get all our shanix up front.

Against his better judgement, Deepspace is sighing and accepting the listing. They better not be a weirdo.

@dragvnsovl

[galaxyshuttle]

Guess from the slow way the little creature wiggled and shuffled itself to get as much surface area as it could across his palms and inner bend of digits, the heating of his armour had been the right call. Sure, the little pokes of his snout and tail still look like it is sussing him out for a point of weakness but they've stopped hissing and biting at him, content to just puddle and be very gentle pet.

"..." Petting hand slowly pulling away to delve into his subspace, and he was drawing out an energon cube slowly so as not to startle it with anything sudden. Seal found with his denta to pull backwards and blow to the floor to collect when he had a free hand, and Deepspace was resting the edge of the cube against his servo, in range of that adorable little glossa to flick out and sense.

Did they want energon? Surely a threat wouldn't present them food.

The temperature beneath his golden belly scales felt as if it warmed up further. A pleasant tingle, Darkfang wondered if it came on purpose or he had missed it before in his haste to bite him. His scale plates wiggled in a small wave to push his elongated frame further.

His snout pushed at the warm servos, nudged in a manner of digging through dirt. Which only gave the appearance of him bonking his snout at a wall, while the rest of his frame wiggled and curled. An action that gradually slowed to a stop when he felt a digit press along his back scales. The dark plates smoothed down with each stroke, followed it like a wave throughout his whole frame. Ah, this was the life. Relax, no care for the rest of the world. Warm and comfortable, his lack of sunspot nearly forgotten.

As secure as the surface was, the tip of his tail shifted and coiled against the Mech's servos. With the size difference, a hold hard to get, so it ended up looking like his tail's tip was pressed tight against the mech's plating. The sharp tip of it gave a few taps against it too, no chance to penetrate the surface, a shame. He quickly gave up with a small flick of his golden tongue at the Mech.

[galaxyshuttle]

Well, at least they weren’t biting at him. A few cursory chomps at his armour, the unrelenting steel probably not something it was used to bearing its usual diet so, hopefully we’d stick with ever so menacing hisses and be a happy little tangle of plates.

But, seems they’d chosen to settle down. He hadn’t squeezed it, hadn’t tried to eat it, hadn’t caused any discomfort aside the initial scoop, so maybe this behemoth wasn’t a threat after all. He had, however, stolen their nice sun patch. Something he could at least replicate from the redirection of thermite to start warming his servos.

What a good noodle. Have Deepspace very gently running the back of his digits over the little helm, and down along what coils of creature were accessible for a stroke.

Now. Where could he safely deposit the little creature? Did they have predators? Was he even native fauna? Did he need flora? A hole in the ground? Was he aquatic? … Did he need energon? Did it *eat* energon?

Biting, useless, meant, venom, useless. The Snake hissed, and gave the metal a few loose chews, before release. His helm pulled away, when the digit gently tapped at his snout. His frame curled further into itself. Protective line of curves within the Mech's servos. Head lifted a little to stare at him with those big golden optics. A flick of a tongue at the air.

Pats? For him? With those servos? The image ran its course through his head module, frame language gradually calmed. Scales partially relaxed, but tensed whenever feeling any movements beneath them. He could shift off his alt mode, or speak, but the temptation for pats stronger than the need to reveal himself. Plus, a frame against his scales, felt pleasant, knowing it was alive, and warm.

He gave a silent hiss, and leaned his helm down, lower jaw pressed along the Mech's servos. Curse his weaknesses for attention and his inability to dig into the Mech's circuits to bite him. Too large for venom, he imagined his venom tanks weren't even big enough to topple the Mech. It was either stay calm and relax, or make a fool out himself fighting. He decided to stay calm.

[galaxyshuttle]

Every careful slide of servos to gather and support as much of the cybersnake was done with utmost care, ensuring that no length of them dangled off his arm or made the other feel like their sunning spot was causing them to slip.

Oh. Optics. For a moment, it was cute to watch the little thing blink as they processed their change of locale, and ... there they go, trying to worm off his palms back to the ground. No, no. This place isn't safe for sleeps.

"I know, I know, you were so comfy, but you can't 'charge here, lil guy" Deepspace murmured as he kept sweeping a servo under the little helm and breastplate to provide them a new 'perch' as he looks around for a better spot to deposit the noodle. Until he is met with a faint thonk and impact with his forearm, where the little thing is just ... gumming him in what is probably their attempts to bite.

"Hey, no. You'll break your teefs, you need that" A digit is gently tapping a little snoot to discourage from trying to nibble at him. Will you calm down if you get some nice pats? Just starting at your helm and going down your spine.

A warm spot, so warm that Darkfang had fallen into a soft recharge. His altmode, curled up in a ball. A black cybersnake ball, with his head rested upon the rest of him. The first touch, no reaction, another servo. His scaled frame shifted, scales adjusted beneath him, shifted his frame forward. Hmm, the pressure didn't leave. His frame felt like it was floating, floating in the air.

Golden optics flicked online, and focused at his surroundings. He was in the air, off the ground, shift of optics, oh no-- A large, way bigger Mech than him, had him within his servos. The panic set in instantly, his scaled body squirmed forward to slither off, but no end in servos. Wait, was there four of them? First warning hiss, an astro second before he turned his head and dived towards the mech. Jaws wide open, latched onto the nearest piece of the Mech, to bite and chew. It felt like he ran into a wall, his jaws, ached, fangs and sharp row of teeth uselessly scratched at metal.

[galaxyshuttle]

Well, that just won’t do. Having this little fella lounging here was a risk to all parties. He could get hit sprawled in the sun like that, and someone could lose control serving to avoid the blob of fauna.

Which means the unassuming shuttle is just going to very gently work servos under the little snooze noodle, trying to gently gather it up and supporting as much of the body as he can. If you try to slither, you get to play infinity hand of always interchanging his servos so you don’t just plap right off his palm to the floor.

@viciousbite

[galaxyshuttle]

He really doesn't like that facial damage. That is a recipe for rusting or corrosion. But, would this mech a. Allow a stranger to apply something that would aid in repairs, and leave it on for a few hours to actually work.

b. Decline, but take the nanite gel and do it himself later.

Probably not.

"Not really. Staying alive, mostly? If I let him go with you, and your face started popping up on the Missing holovid screens around the spaceport, I would have to live with that. Knowing that, by proxy, you are MIA because of my negligence" Deepspace rumbles, looking over at the little guy.... Well, they had asked for a cost. Maybe he could do it this way.

"Actually-" He hums, delving into his subspace, and placing the little (by his standards) tin down on the table beside Ghospire's elbow. The packaging is a little worse for wear, but it clearly isn't open from the faded branding tape up and over the screw top lid.

"Shuttle tier nanite gel. It's for healing the damage we get coast through asteroid belts, blaster fire, and the burns of solar flares or entering orbit. Should help out with your faceplates if you aren't partial to the damage. Otherwise, great in a pinch if you don't have a medic or med kit in hand. Payment? Find a use for that"

"I'll be fine." He sighed, rubbing his face and wiping the energon off of it. He takes a moment to vent, absently rubbing at the hole in his face as he thought. He'd have to open the box's now, dig through them to find trackers or what have you. Tear his ship apart to find any as well...

He shakes himself, armor rattling against each other as he sighs and leans back, thinking.

"Got a cost for the impromptu saving?" Would rather it not come back and bite him in the aft.

[galaxyshuttle]

He does, where possible, yes.

After eons of bad, survivors deserve a little bit of something nice.

|| GalaxyShuttle || 🗣

"Does he do this to others? The picking up people, giving them rubs and just... carrying them around?"

"... Is it some secret desire for him to be held?"

@galaxyshuttle

[galaxyshuttle]

"Good to know" Deepspace hums, optics roving the crowd gathered around their various tables or bar counter, and no one seems to be studying them all that hard. Guess Wing's had truly cut his losses and left. For now.

A little wince at the dribble of energon at that sip, and while he might not have anything for the wings, he does have some nanite gel that a hearty blob on their faceplate would do wonders. His stuff was made for the burns of solar flares, the bombardment of passing around or through asteroid fields, and the scorch of entering or exiting the atmosphere. That hole would be good as new!

"Yeah. I can heat or cool my frame, helps with different atmospheres of planets or space hubs. When you were panicking and your frame was trying to cool itself, I helped a little there cause I didn't want you to crash hard. I can hold and heat that cloth you've got if you need a temperature for ... Everything about today"

"I appreciated it." His voice is mumbled and staticky as he finishes shifting. He doesn't move from the little recovery cloth, just holds his helm and clicks softly.

"Bars aren't his scene, not these ones anyway." Taking another moment to vent before he shifts and looks his savior over with a critical optic. Shifting and slowly grabbing the coolant, sickle sharp claws wrapping around it and sighing softly. He holds it close for a moment, considering before taking a long drink of it, some of it slipping out of the still very open hole in his face.

Taking a moment to vent and shake himself out, rubbing his face and tilting his helm back.

"...Warm up?" It sounded more like a question than an answer.

[galaxyshuttle]

Arms coming to rest on the table, leaning in so he could talk softly as he knew shuttles were not exactly quiet, and he is very carefully using a claw to hook around the cube, and bring it right up against a servo so should they want anything, its accessible. It even has a little straw in it.

"I thought about bringing you back to the ship for a proper once over, but I don't imagine anyone likes waking up on strange ships with encounters like that. Bar is at least populated and has witnesses if he tried to start scrap" Deepspace murmurs, studying the little fellow, optics landing on the 'wings' and flicking through various levels of magnification. What did he have on servo to help with that? What could he make for that?

"You need to warm up, or cool down?" The shuttle asked, ready to reach out and gently keep them propped upright if they start to tilt anywhere but towards the 'recovery cloth'.

Skyfall glared, wings flared out before he rocketed off. He was no match against the shuttle, not like this.

The other remained limp in his grasp, plating rattling softly at the cold.

Golden visor was slow to flicker on, things blurry around the edges and voice box spitting some static. His helm tilted and pushed into the cloth before things evened out. Wing joined trembled and twitched, grinding and trembling before stilling.

"Fraggin.. pit slagging..." Mumbling and spitting out some other words before he finally shifted his helm to look around. He'd been in this bar a few times, helm dizzy as he slowly sat up. The soft mesh was weird under his servos, and weird that the cleaning cloth was so big.

Visor flickered a few times before he spit out more static and took it and his blast mask off. Golden optics cycle a few before finally settling on him.

"Thank fragging... Thanks."

[galaxyshuttle]

"Good" Deepspace rumbles, setting the mech down on the nearest level surface to take off and frag off and he is moving to a crouch to examine the little thing slumped across his pede.

Oh, yeah. Definitely a seeker at one point from the two holes in their armour where wings would be, but wounds having long since healed over. Still, can't imagine that those kind of injuries allowed one to get in their for maintenance, let alone trust anyone to do so if company was anything like the airborne ex.

Servos moving to carefully scoop and support the little seeker on their chassis in his palms, redirecting nitrogen down his lines to chill the plates in contact, and Deepspace is rising with his little limp quarry.

Right ... Logically, he'd just head back to the landing platforms, get them a berth to settle in at till they wake up, and send them on their way. However, given the ex, probably not a good place to wake up in a strange environment all alone.

Cleaning cloth bunched and folded on the edge of the table, little limbs carefully moved to fold under it, with a helm resting on top, and hopefully the populated interior of an oil house was a kinder spot to online than alone. He'd gotten a table at the back for less foot traffic and rowdiness, and a glass of chilled midgrade out of arm knocking range as the first thing seen when optics process their surroundings.

Hey, he's stirring. His helm is lifting.

"You're all good. Your friend isn't around"

The much smaller seeker struggled against his hand, spitting out angry static and only stilling at the squeeze. He glared at the mech, wings hiked high in anger and trembling. Jaw worked as he growled slightly, before giving a slow nod. He obviously wasn't wining this argument, and he wanted to make sure that next time he could get Ghost alone and on his ship...

And that meant leaving now to get another opportunity.

"Fine." He spit out, angry at being stopped, though there wasn't much he could do alone.

Ghostspire, meanwhile, had slumped against the offered pede.

Systems were slow to restart, frame plummeting in temperature before slowly raising back up. Systems slowly resetting and booting up, though he wasn't online quiet yet. Systems slow to boot up where he was slumped against Deepspaces pede. Vents steadying and evening out as other systems slowly cycled on.