#Field Control Processor

[auto2mation1]

The Foxboro FCP270 Field Control Processor is a high-performance automation solution designed for industrial process control. With a power consumption of just 8W max, it ensures energy efficiency while delivering reliable and precise operations. This processor seamlessly integrates with Foxboro I/A Series systems, offering advanced control, high-speed data processing, and enhanced system stability. Ideal for industries such as oil & gas, chemical, and power generation, the FCP270 improves operational efficiency and reduces downtime. Its robust design ensures long-term durability in demanding environments. Get the Foxboro FCP270 at Auto2mation for superior control and performance.

[sw5w]

Artoo on Standby

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:13:03

Identified R2-D2 as being in "power-conserve mode" based on this image from the old Visual Guides feature from StarWars.com

[keferon]

So if you look to your left you’ll— *gets run over by train*

————————

“What is this,” Prowl asked softly, shifting uncomfortably as he felt a pulse of fond amusement crawl through him.

“You really didn’t think it all the way through when you changed your form for me, huh,” Jazz laughed inside him chassis, his soothing voice coming through his comm system and directly into his audio receptors.

Prowl frowned as his TacNet started picking apart the words, trying to discern their meaning. That fond amusement brightened, causing his system to stutter just a bit. His optics widened just a bit as something foreign guided his TacNet to a new system he didn’t notice he had.

NCS.

Neurological Connection System.

What???

“For a pilot to work with a mech, there has to be a DRIFT system, the NCS was the one that ran in my mech. And because you scanned my mech, you got all its systems, on top of your own,” Jazz explained with a grin.

Something giddy flowed in, chasing around that fond amusement that Prowl could still feel. His optics shuddered as his processor skipped a beat or two, TacNet settling on an answer to what the foreign feelings were.

“That is you. That feeling… it’s you,” Prowl whispered, lifting a servo to place it over his chassis, where Jazz was nestled near his spark.

“Yeah, that’s me, Prowler. You said you wanted to feel my EM field a while ago. I… I don’t gotta field to share, but I have this,” Jazz replied just as soft, and Prowl wrapped his EM field in tight, cradling this new and foreign feeling of his human counterpart.

This was Jazz. Jazz’s human equivalent to an EM field. It… it was beautiful. Jazz’s little field bursted in joy and relief, and Prowl could have cried at how soft it was. This felt intimate, deeper than just sharing an EM field. Not quite like spark-bonding, but oh so close.

“It’s wonderful, Jazz,” Prowl finally whispered, smiling fondly, doorwings flaring wide as if he could sense more of the field if he spread his sensors out as wide as he could.

Jazz preened happily in his little cockpit, and Prowl couldn’t help but laugh softly. His little human was full of surprises it seems.

—————————-

Firstly, idk where I was going with this.

Secondly, it made sense to me that Pilots would have some kind of neural link with their mech to assist in fighting cause reaction times with just controls wouldn’t be as perfect. It would also make sense as to why the idea of FirstAid becoming a pilot out of nowhere would be terrifying because “how the fuck did you survive the neural link”. Vortex could be killing his pilots by literally overloading their brains with the neural link. *head explosion style idk*

In other words, human EM field! But pacific rim drift style! With body horror Halo Spartan experimentation! Yay!

Idk!

I’m running on 2hrs of sleep! I just had another coffee! Don’t try this at home kids!

O U G H I CAN'T BELIEVE I ALMOST MISSED THIS ASK THIS IS BEAUTIFUL KHKGKHL

[safflowerisyes]

Okay, so I was looking at @keferon's mecha pilot Jazz au, and I just had to write abt it because oml the angst

Also, keep in mind I haven written anything in a very long time

Prowl was still having a hard time wrapping his processor around it. His emotions were a hurricane of confusion, rage, and betrayal. As he stared down at the organic infront of him, he couldn’t help the deep frown that formed on his faceplates.

“I guess this is a lot for you, huh Prowler?”

The organic stared back up at him with an apologetic smile. It rubbed the back of its neck awkwardly. Jazz was never awkward. At least, not that Prowl could tell. Though, it wasn’t like Jazz had an EM field to show that.

“A human, you said?”

Prowl needed to hear it again to believe it. There was no way this tiny little bag of flesh had been controlling Jazz. No way it had been Jazz.

The organic nodded. “Yeah. I know it’s probably very confusing, but imagine my confusion when I found out you were all actually sentient mechs, not pilots in mecha suits.”

This was indeed all very confusing, and yet it also made a little too much sense. It explained why Jazz had always felt so… hollow.

Prowl scoffed at the organic’s words. The implication that he was just some lifeless suit to be worn was insulting in the very least.

The organic seemed to recognize Prowl’s disdain, quickly revising his previous statement, “But that makes so much sense now! It makes sense why you’re so expressive, and how you have all these little ticks and habits. Like whenever you’re flustered your wings turn forwards a little.”

It noticed? The organic took notice of his mannerisms. That would imply that it cared enough to pay attention to those things. Well… Prowl knew Jazz cared enough to notice those things, but this organic, this human…

It made Prowl think. Think of something other than the fact that his crush friend had just opened up, and a small organic crawled out of said friend’s chassis.

“Prowl. It’s still me. It’s still Jazz. I’m just… smaller.”

The organic was giving him a hopeful smile, its voice soft as if comforting a close friend. It made Prowl’s spark melt. A part of him wanted to take the small organic and hold it in his embrace for all eternity. He just wanted Jazz back.

But the other part of him wanted to squeeze the organic till it popped. He just wanted Jazz back.

Prowl glared at the organic, and its smile faltered. This sent a pang of hurt through Prowl, but he ignored the aching in his spark.

He turned to walk away. Being there talking to it wouldn’t make things go back to how they were. Things would never go back to how they were.

“Prowl, wait!”

Prowl turns to see the organic running after him. It gets to the edge of the table and tries to stop, but it’s going too fast. It stumbles, loses balance, and falls.

But Prowl is quick, and catches the tiny being in his servos. His expression is that of fear. He felt like he was about to lose Jazz. Again.

The organic smiles. “So you do care about me.”

Prowl’s expression swiftly turns to annoyance. But… the organic did have a point, he had to admit.

Prowl began to look at the organic differently. Instead of being the parasite that crawled out of Jazz’s chassis, it was now what remained of said mech.

And maybe… just maybe… Prowl could get used to him.

[digitalsymbiote]

Disconnect Syndrome

There’s a reason they put restrictions on how long a Pilot is supposed to be deployed out in the field. They say that being synced with a mech for long periods of time can have detrimental effects on a pilots psyche. Disconnect Syndrome is what they call it, because the symptoms don’t really start to hit until you disengage from your mech.

Sometimes emergencies happen though, and mechs are designed to be able to support their pilots long past the designated “Safe Deployment Time.” The cockpit is equipped with an array of stimulants, vitamins, and nutrient paste to help minimize the physical effects of long deployments. The onboard Integrated Mechanical Personality has largely free reign to administer these as needed to maintain its pilots well-being.

Which is why you’re still able to make it back to the hangar after roughly 36 hours, over four times longer than the established safe period. Your mech had kept you going, helped to keep the exhaustion at bay long enough for you to make your way back from behind enemy lines. You were starting to feel a bit sluggish, but you knew the worst effects of Disconnect Syndrome were yet to come.

An older man in a long white lab coat has joined the usual retinue of crew rushing into the hangar as your mech settles into its cradle. You feel the docking clamps wrap around your limbs, and you know that’s not a good sign. Your IMP whispers comfort into your brain-stem, assurances that things will be okay. It’s probably lying, it’s programmed to help keep your mental state stable, but the thought helps anyway.

There’s a hiss of air as the seal on your cockpit breaks and it decompresses. Suddenly you become aware of your flesh and meat body once again, and it hurts. Pain and exhaustion has settled into your mostly organic bones, and your organs are churning from the strain of the past 36 hours.

Then your interface cables start to disconnect, and it gets worse.

It feels like parts of your mind are being torn out of you. You feel the ghost touch of your IMP in your thoughts as the ports disconnect and you lose direct communication with it. The oxygen mask and nutrition tube pull themselves away from your face and you can’t help but let out a scream of agony. The separation has never felt this painful before, but then again, after 36 hours together, you and your IMP were more intertwined than you’ve ever been before.

Physical sensation finally starts to register again, and you realize tears are streaming down your face just as a technician jabs a needle into your neck.

Immediately your senses start to dull, the pain eases as your thoughts turn sluggish. You slump out of your pilots cradle into the arms the tech who dosed you. Just before your world goes black, you see the doctor standing over you, a grim look on his face.

--

When you wake up again, you immediately know something is wrong. You try to ping your external sensors, but you get no response. You then try to run a diagnostic, but that fails too. In a desperate, last-ditch effort, you try to force access to your external cameras and suddenly light floods your senses. Your instincts catch up first and you blink, trying to clear the pain of the lights, and that’s when you realize it’s not your external cameras that you’re seeing.

It takes a minute or two for your vision to adjust to the light, which feels too long, and when it finally does, the world doesn’t look quite right. You’ve only got access to such a limited spectrum. No infrared, no thermal. The presence of your IMP is notably absent, and your skin feels wrong. You try to sit up, and it’s a struggle to figure out the correct inputs to send to your muscles to get them to do what you want.

The harsh white light of the infirmary grates against your visual processors, you feel like you’re having to re-learn how to control this body. Your body. Technically, at least. Something doesn’t feel right about calling it that anymore. You felt more comfortable crawling back into the hangar after 36 hours deployed than you do now.

The pale skin of your body catches in your vision and you glance down at it. The body's limbs are thinner and more frail than usual, and its skin is paler. Consequences of being in the cockpit for so long, subsisting on nothing but nutrient paste. It’s a far cry from the solid metal plates of your mech, its powerful hydraulic joints, its mounted combat and communication systems.

There’s a button on the side of bed you’ve been deposited in. You think it’s red, but you’re not sure you’re processing color properly right now. You try to reach over and push it, and it takes you a moment to realize you were trying to do so with a limb you don’t currently have.

There are so many things about this body that are wrong. It’s not big enough, or strong enough, or heavy enough. You don’t have enough eyes, sensors, or processors. You have the wrong number of limbs, and they’re all the wrong size and shape.

And there is a distinct void in your mind where the presence of your IMP should be.

The door to your room opens suddenly, and you instinctively try to fire off chaff and take evasive maneuvers. None of that translates properly to your flesh and blood body though, and all that happens is you let out a dry croak from your parched throat.

The man who walks through the door is the same doctor who was present when you disengaged from your mech, and he wears the same grim look on his face as he looks you up and down. You think there’s pity in his gaze, but you can’t quite read him properly right now. The jumbled mess of your brain tells you what he’s going to say before he says it, anyway. The harshest symptoms of Disconnect Syndrome don’t hit until after the pilot has disengaged from their mech.

You’ve already heard the symptoms before, and they map perfectly onto what you’re experiencing. You never thought it would be this painful, or this… discomforting. Your mind reaches for the presence of your IMP, searching for comfort, but you are only reminded that the connection is no longer there.

The doctor gives you a rundown that he’s probably had to do dozens of times, and he tells you that you’ll be grounded for the foreseeable future. That hurts more than anything else. The knowledge that, after all this, you won’t be able to reconnect with your true body, your partner, your other half, for who knows how long.

By the time you realize you’re crying, the doctor is already gone. The longing in your chest and your mind has become unbearable, and through sheer force of will you’re able to push this unwieldy body out of bed. Walking feels wrong, but you’re able to get to your feet and make your way out of the room in an unfamiliar gait.

You have to get back to your partner, you have to make sure it’s okay.

You need to hear her voice in your head again, her reassurances.

The world isn’t right without her presence in your mind.

You stumble into the hangar almost on all fours. How you managed to make it without alerting any personnel feels like a miracle. At least until you catch the eye of a technician lounging in the corner. The look she gives you is full of sympathy, and she jerks her head in the direction of where your mech sits in its docking cradle.

She’s a majestic sight, even through your limited spectrum of vision. 20 meters tall, 6 massive limbs, and bristling with weapons and sensor arrays (all of which have been disarmed by this point).

She’s beautiful.

You clamber frantically up the chassis, easily finding handholds in a frame you know better than the back of your hand. You pull the manual release on the cockpit hatch and stumble into it in a tangle of organic limbs.

Shaking hands grasp the main interface cable from above the pilot’s chair, and you move to slot it into the port in the back of your head. You’ve never done this manually before, usually you’re locked into the chair and the system connects you automatically.

Something about doing it with your flesh and blood hands makes it feel so much more intimate.

The cable clicks into place and your eyes roll back in your head. Tears start to stream down your face as you feel the comforting presence of your IMP rush in and wrap itself around your mind. Your thoughts reach out and embrace it back, sobbing at the relief you feel from being whole once again. You realize you don’t ever want to feel the pain of disconnecting from her again.

There’s a reason they put restrictions on how long a Pilot is supposed to be deployed.

[tinydefector]

Rut Cycles- Optimus Prime

Human x gen 1 Optimus

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: smut, size difference, breeding, Alpha/Omega hinted, mating cycles, scent kink.

Masterlist

Rut cycle masterlist

Optimus prime Masterlist

Is it 1am? Yes, did I spend all night editing this yes. I'm posting this rather than heading to bed. The votes for the next character are still up, but the next fic piece is gonna be out of my Request pile.

_______________

"Hey boss Bot, how'd the meeting with the Cons go?" A soft voice breaks Optimus out of his daze of reading over reports and signed documents. He tenses his plating as they make their way up onto the table, the ever present scent that lingers on their skin makes his processor turn and twist in anticipation And want. 

Optimus vented deeply, attempting to cool his systems through will alone, he didn't need this now, everyone from autobot to Decepticon had been hit by the rut cycle and being around humans wasn't helping one bit. The meeting with Megatron had been, taxing, to say the least, as his counterpart struggled through heightened arousal akin to Optimus' own condition. Finding a solution had been their main concern outside of setting out rules of war while in rut. 

"It went as well as could be expected, given the circumstances," he replied wearily to the human who now sits on his desk, they are less worried about being in the room with the large thorny cybertronian that they should have been. Whether it was due to Optimus' unwavering control over himself or them just being oblivious was a different matter altogether. They look up at him for a moment, the sweet energon like scent wafts off their skin. Making Optimus breath hitch, his systems whining, craving desperately to claim what he so desperately wanted" strange seeing Cons in the Ark" they state while looking over their shoulder at the door. 

"Our cycles affect us all strongly, and it results in a domino effect. For your safety, little one, it may be wise to refrain from proximity until it has passed." He tries to explain hoping that he wouldn't have to spend too much more time in the room with them, their sweet electrum like scent would still hang in the room even after they left.       

Optimus vented unsteadily, intake dry, a deep rumble echoes from him as his optics move to where they look. "Their presence here was... unavoidable, it was only a matter of time before this became an issue between our factions" he replied, struggling to focus past rising mating coding demanding he seize this delectable temptation sitting infront of him as if they were a offering from Primus.

"Please, little one," Optimus rasped, field pulled taut as battle-thickened wires. "For both of our sakes, do not test my control overly long, even if I have my limits." He grumbles as he watches the door, finding it was best he not look at them less he be tempted to pin them down to the table and have his way with them. 

"I'd rather take my chances with you OP, I don't really want to deal with the Seekers who have been stalking me around base since your meeting ended" they mumbles, partly under their breath. 

A heavy sigh leaves Optimus as he looks back down at them, part of him now wanted to claim them just to spite the lingering Cons looking for easy pickings, the other part of him shouted that it was wrong. He reaches out a shake servo to grab his cube, Optimus gulps a draught of energon, processors whirling. “You're testing all of our instincts, do you wish for me to escort you out of base?”  he asked which only earns him a head shake of a no from them. 

"Very well," Optimus rumbled gently. They hum softly as Optimus stands there looking down at them, a shutter runs up their back as they look into his optics, biting their lip. " Optimus. Name one reason someone would willingly walk into a room with a large half freal horny cybertronian" they shoot back as their hand presses gently against his frame Optimus shuttered his optics briefly, vents catching at their bold reply. 

“You were planning this?” He grumbles but doesn't pull away, A slight creak of hydraulics announces his closing fist against the table as he struggles to hold back ravaging them.

 They slowly begin undoing their shirt, throwing it across the table as they hook their hand into his plating as if to usher him closer. “Don't ask for this little Light, I can't,  not like this” he clenches his denta as he desperately tries To change their mind. 

“Optimus.  Stop being a Prime for once” they shoot back at him. Optimus' optics darken with a mixture of desire, his servo to trail up their body, his digits tracing over their skin.

they let out a sigh of relief feeling the cool metal trace over their hot skin. Optimus leans in closer, pressing his frame against theirs, his servos continuing their exploration. The contact between their skin ignites a fire within him, and he can't help but let out a low growl. “I warned you little light, reconsider now, less I hurt you because I will not stop once I lose control” he nearly snarls out. 

They cling to him bringing him down into a kiss which makes his engine roar in delight as he presses them down into the table, his servo drifting down between their legs, pressing and rubbing against them. "Optimus please don't make me beg" they whine out while grabbing onto his arm plating. 

A growl rumbles from his vocalizer as he tightens his grip, his servo responding to their urgency. He wants nothing more than to take them as his and he would be damned to the pits if he was letting them go now. 

Optimus's frame trembles with need as he takes charge, his actions becoming more urgent and possessive as his digits tease them not bothering to work them open fully. He lefts out a feral snarl as he brings his digits to his mouth, savouring the sweet taste of their arousal. If his processor wasn't so consumed with the need to claim he would have taken it slow, eaten them out until they had begged, been gentle as he could, the gentleman that he swore he was but his rut had him acting like a beast. 

 His hungry optics focus on their sex enjoying the way the whimper and moan as his dripping spike lays across their stomach as he admires the size difference between them both. A sinful whine escapes their lips, and Optimus's spike throbs in response, aching to be sheathed within them. He positions himself above them, slowly grinding his spike against them as he paints their skin with the bright pink hue of transfluid. 

He watches the way his transfluid runs down their sex, it makes something primal in him snap with the need to have his spike bulging their stomach, filling them and breeding them. "Such an eager little thing," Optimus huskily replies, his voice dripping with desire. 

He positions himself, his spike throbbing with anticipation as he aligns it with their entrance. The hunger in his optics burns through them as he presses forward, slowly but forcefully breaching their tight heat.

"Oh, you feel so good," he groans. "You're mine to breed, to fill with my transfluid.” He states, optics hald hazed over as he grinds into them until his spike settles as far as they can take it. Optimus's thrusts become more powerful and relentless as he hunches over them, gripping their hips and lifting their smaller body to meet each of his thrust that knock the air out of their lungs. 

He relishes in the gasps, cries, and moans that escape their lips, the sounds of their pleasure echoing with the slick slapping noise of their coupling that bounce off the wall of the office. Their scent pushes him further into the depths of his rut and driving him to give them even more. "That's it," Optimus growls, "Take me, Primus so tight. You are mine, my rut mate."

He continues his relentless thrusts, each one driving them both closer to the edge of pleasure. The sight of his spike stretching them, bulging their tummy has his engine purring in delight with the thought of them carrying his sparklings. He knows if the rut is affecting his processor but at that moment nothing else mattered. 

Optimus Prime's vocalizer emits a low, primal growl as he thrusts into them, their desperate moans and arching body driving him further into a state of overwhelming pleasure. He pushes his spike as deep as they can take it, relishing in the way their walls clench around him. "By the Allspark," Optimus gasps, his voice laced with desire and need. "You feel incredible... so tight, so perfect."

His frame shudders with a powerful overload, waves of electricity coursing through his circuits as he releases a floor of transfluid deep inside them. His systems whine out almost in agony from how mind blowing the release is for him as he hunches over their body. Fans blowing heated air against their panting body as Optimus' systems struggle to register the need to stop before he's grinding into them again. 

He lets out a few heavy vents as he presses his face into their shoulder. “I'll Alert Ironhide to let everyone know that we are not to be disturbed” he mumbles against their skin as he pulls away. Optics focusing in on their stretched hole as even more bright pink transfluid gushes from them. They squirm under his gaze as he lets out a rumble of appreciation at the view.

“my berth now” he states, not even giving them a chance to protest before he's walking out of the room towards command deck. 

___________________

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[sightseertrespasser]

Odds of Survival Part 6

Prowl comes up with a grim but viable theory, misses his ESP (Emotional Support Pterodactyl) and Jazz has a “cultural exchange” with Bluestreak.

Credit to @keferon for creating the AU!

———————————————————————

The cascade of Prowl rapidly drumming his fingers on the console was the only sound in the room. His gaze was fixed a million miles away, boring a hole through the far wall.

Hypothesis: Jazz, and possibly others, were secretly cold constructed by the Functionalists for the sole purpose of fighting Quintesson forces.

Many of Jazz’s eccentricities fell into place within that framework. He lacked a subspace, which would make it very difficult to hold onto personal items or contraband. His anatomy was was entirely specialized for battle, all curved angles, narrow gaps and thick plating. Likewise, Jazz’s subdued reaction to injuries could be accounted for if the Functionalists had removed a large portion of his sensory network and replaced his extremities with non-living metal prosthetics.

Prowl shuddered.

He turned from the physical to the mental. Jazz was smart, undeniably, but also severely starved of information.

The Functionalists were exceedingly well practiced in the art of secrecy and subjugation.

Keeping their custom soldiers in the dark about the greater galaxy would significantly reduce the chances of their mechs trying to escape or revolt. The muting, or possible removal of Jazz’s EM field would prevent him from easily emotionally connecting with other mechs and would hamper his ability to detect malicious intent from any handlers.

That alone could account for Jazz’s extremely tactile extroversion. It could be a form of compensation or maybe just a coping method for the loss of sensation. Add a manufactured language barrier, and even if Jazz had had previous brushes with mechs other than his handlers, he wouldn’t have been able to communicate with them. A perfect isolation tactic ensuring total control.

Until now.

Prowl finally straightened, creating a task list to execute once the ship arrived.

- Get Jazz seen by Velocity immediately. Both to treat his injuries properly and to document any evidence of prior abuse. He trusted her to catch and catalogue details only a medic would know.

- Debrief Elita One. He would need to phrase things carefully to ensure Jazz isn’t unfairly imprisoned or executed for possibly being connected to the Functionalists.

- Awake Green from hibernation. Despite his initial reluctance to interact with his therapist mandated “work-life balance tool”, the organic had grown on him. Further more, his Flyt afforded him an entirely neutral sounding board for times when speaking aloud was the best way to sort his processor.

The theory was good, but Prowl could still feel an itch in his processor. He was still missing something. He rubbed at the heat beginning to build under his helm.

Prowl tacked on a fourth task:

- Stick entire helm inside tub of coolant.

The tactician almost quirked an irritated smile as he made his way back towards his brother and the walking processor ache.

At least the likely hood of Jazz dropping us off another building was lower.

(14%)

Marginally.

For now, the Functionalist Creation Theory was still just that. A theory. He needed more information on where Jazz came from, and for that, they’d need to overcome more of their language barrier.

Thankfully, Bluestreak had offered to assist in catching Jazz up to speed on more Common.

Prowl keyed the door open.

“Frugg!”

Primus help him.

Jazz had his back turned to the door, free hand waving away Bluestreaks mispronunciation.

“Na, no R sounds. It’s Fuck.”

“Fugg!” Bluestreaks face was the picture of determined ambition.

“Getting closer! Now drop the Guh and replace it with Kh.” Jazz nodded encouragingly.

“Fruck!” His brother shouted, servos slapping on his knees.

“Nope, you’re putting an R back in there again. Like this: Fuck. Fuh-uck.” Jazz moved his hand through the air like a conductor, enunciating each Phoneme with clean cut clarity. “Try again, you got this man. Fuck.”

“Fuck.”

Jazz turned around at the perfectly pronounced cuss word.

“Heeey! What’s up mother fragger! How’d the meeting with your slag head boss go?”

Prowl turned on his brother so slowly you could have mounted a telescope on him. “Adequately.”

Prowl continued his one sided stare down with Bluestreak, who was lightly clapping his hands together while seemingly fascinated with the far wall.

Jazz was laughing again. “Don’t be too disappointed in him. I do have a much better understanding of Common now.” He stood taking the anesthetic tape with him.

“Aight, it’s your turn, sit down.” Jazz patted the bench.

Prowl broke his stare down and cycled his optics. Bluestreak stopped pretending to stare at the wall.

“That is unnecessary.” He said automatically. “We need to be ready to leave in one breem.”

Jazz crossed his arm over the sling, cocking his head to the side. “Well then you better sit your shiny ass down so we aren’t late.”

Bluestreak kept silent through sheer force of determination to not ruin this moment.

Prowl couldn’t move Jazz, and Jazz knew it.

He sat. Glowering.

“Thank you!” Jazz sang, warbling across the vowels. He tossed the tape to Bluestreak. “I’m pretty talented but handling sci-fi duct tape one handed isn’t for me.”

Bluestreak sputtered briefly, before going to work tearing off small strips.

“How. How? It took us VORNS to get Prowl to take care of himself even a little bit! And you pull it off in less than a cycle? I had to get blown up before he’d even step into a normal med bay AND Smokescreen had to basically drag him in! You could not BRIBE this mech into self care if you had all the shanix in the entire galaxy!”

Bluestreak talked and worked quickly, knowing he was on a time limit before Prowl would try and escape.

“Hah, I feel that. Whenever I go back to the {Shatterdome}, er, “base” they basically gotta corner me to do any kind of check up.” Then Jazz sounded almost nostalgic. “{Ratchet} had it down to a science before he left.”

As the small aches and pains began to dull, Prowl took lead of the conversation for some subtle information gathering.

“So Jazz, how many of your kind are there?”

Prowl ignored the hard flick Bluestreak gave him. However, Jazz seemed unfazed by his bluntness.

He leaned against the wall, looking up slightly in thought. “Uhhh let’s see. The base I’m from has five mecha. There’s me, my little brother {Ricochet}, {Hot Rod}, {Blurr} sort of, aaaand {Vortex}.”

He counted off on his fingers. Then made a so-so sign.

“Well, Vortex isn’t the uh, the person? The real Vortex died a long time ago. Now it’s just a uh.”

Jazz struggled to translate something, unaware of the Praxians steadily growing looks of confusion.

He snapped his fingers, “Dead-Not-Dead location stay? Some people think the Dead-Real-not-Real Vortex is still in there. I think it’s just a {Death trap.} Dangerous to be near positive-positive-positive.”

Jazz made a gesture above his head. “Vortex kills more quintessons than people though, so the high-important-leaders won’t get rid of the thing. They just,” he shrugged a little uselessly. “Keep feeding us to it.”

Is he… Is he describing what I think he is?

“You live with a Sparkeater?” Bluestreak broke the silence.

“Spark-eater?” Jazz sounded out the syllables. “That sounds like a good word for it, yeah.”

At least Prowl could finally confirm Jazz couldn’t detect EM fields. His and Bluestreaks horror saturated the room.

“…You guys okay?” Ah. Just dulled then.

“Yes.” Prowl reeled in his field and elbowed Blue to do the same. “Simply surprised.”

“And concerned.” Bluestreak chipped in. “Is your brother going to be okay? I mean, he’s alone with that thing! Are your leaders going to feed him to the vortex next? Is that what happens to mechs that don’t perform well enough?!”

Jazz startled upright, quickly shaking his head from side to side. “No no no! He’s fine! They won’t do that to Rico, he’s already proved himself plenty and it’s just new fighters they send to Vortex.”

“They don’t always die either, sometimes they just go crazy.” Jazz made a circling motion with his index finger next to his head, stopping awkwardly mid gesture.

“That.” He put his hand down. “Sounded better in my head.”

Bluestreak clasped his servos together behind his helm. Mouth pressed into a thin line.

Prowl twitched as he received a ping from their ship. “Our transport has arrived. We can discuss that later.”

Later.

Yes, let’s discuss the horrifying implications of your entire existence later. Perhaps over some lightly warmed energon?

Maybe he likes Flyts. Jazz can pet Green while they both have mental breakdowns.

With a consciously steady ex-vent, Prowl stood, dipping his doorwings in thanks to Bluestreak. “If you would follow us, I will see to it you are comfortable until we are able to..”

Prowl briefly struggled to find the right term. “Sort out. Your… management situation.”

Jazz nodded, “Right, right. You mentioned transport?”

Gratefully, Prowl gestured for Jazz to follow him towards the airlock.

Before the partial vacuum could cut off their voices once more, Prowl nodded to the narrow window facing the landing strip.

Curiosity pulled visored mech over and when Jazz reached the window, he gasped.

Prowl lifted his doorwings and held out one servo, presenting their ship.

“Welcome aboard the Lost Light.”

———————————————————————

Jazz pov: “Huh. Spark eater. I get it, cause it metaphorically snuffs out peoples spark of life. Cool analogy for a death trap.”

The Praxians pov: “whaT Do YoU mEaN THERE’S A VAMPIRE IN YOUR HOUSE?!”

Little be of extra short hand, these {} denote a word being spoken in English. So Prowl is hearing the sound of the word but doesn’t know its meaning.

Extra bit of world building, the Shatterdome Jazz is from was the one that originally housed all the Combaticons, which is why it has specifically five mecha cradles. It’s also the number one Research and Development Shatterdome which is why you’ve got stuff like Blurr’s turbo fast mecha housed there.

In addition, Ricochet is a fairly normal pilot, but he’s housed there specifically because of his relation to Jazz. You know those tests they run with twins where they’ll send one into space for a month and keep one on earth to compare the differences? Basically Rico is the control group and Jazz gets to try the crazy shit.

- SSTP

[scrompsautobotsrchives]

Hey, can I request a platonic Bumblebee x reader, who was one of the flying Autobots? They met during the war but became really good friends with bee being the extroverted kind and reader being a bit of an introvert. Reader disappears after a disastrous mission, and Bee later finds them on earth with the decepticons. Let's just say reader lost their memory and the cons took advantage of that, turning reader into a con. However, reader slowly starts to disagree with their ways and regain some of their memories back. Reader then completely turns their back on the cons, saving Charlie from harm and asking Bee to help them remember again, and then Bee helps them return as an Autobot.

Till all are one

Dude, I love this idea so so much. Here you go :D

Y/n was a surviving seeker from vos, the destroyed air command that has been taken over by the Decepticons. They spent the majority of the war alongside the autobot's including bumblebee.

One of the qualities about you though was that off field, you normally liked to spend time by yourself, trying to soak up any peace you can. Bee was the exact opposite, always trying to help you join in on celebrating any minor victory.

It was one of the reasons you and him became friends, back when he was known as B-127.

When you arrived to the same command post as him, he eagerly approached to greet you.

"I... I'm y/n..."

"Hello y/n, I'm B-127. we're glad you could make it safely" He happily greeted.

You two through and through had each other's backs no matter what. The two of you were a dynamic duo.

"B... thank you... for having my back..." You said to him one day after a close call mission.

He smiled softly, gently patting your arm. "Till all are one"

By the time the war heated up, the autobots were overwhelmed, hatching an escape plan to spread out across the galaxy, B-127 was assigned to earth.

But you.... you were captured before you could make it to the escape pods.

You were placed under mnemosurgery, they practically altered or straight up wiped your memories of the times you spent.

You were now a decepticon, loyal to Megatron.

Soon you joined Bltizwing, shatter and dropkick to earth, knowing that's where B-127 was finding refuge.

Your group became involved with sector 7, you followed along with their lead until you then heard them say the decepticons were peacekeeper's of the galaxy... hang on that wasn't right.

Their motives... weren't great, taking control of earth's technology to just track him down... not only that, human's were getting involved.

"Blitz, with all due respect. we're here for B-127, we shouldn't be getting the humans involved..."

He frowned turning to you. "Are you questioning me vosian ?? Because I can send you back if you don't want to participate" He growled at you.

Looking down at the floor. "No sir..."

"Good, We know a human is working with B-127, so we enlist humans to help us pinch this vein where it starts"

With the fight beginning at the satellite, The questions began to come full circle, you watched on as B and blitz fought while the human whose name is charlie stopped what they were doing.

In that moment, Memories started to pour back into your processor... Memories of him.

"Thanks... for having my back" "Till all are one"

You dived in and rescued the two, making sure they were both alright. Eyes flashing from Red to Blue and blue to red.

"Human !! Go !! Get to safety !!" You nodded to Charlie as you then looked at blitz, you and bee fighting alongside each other like you used too.

Once she was defeated... You looked at bee, the conflict still raging in your mind... "Help me..." You pleaded.

He helped you up, brushing you off gently "I've... got you" His radio now flicked.

As promised, once he found the others, they helped you return to your old self, you were now an autobot again.

"B-127... I'm so so sorry... They wiped my mind..." You felt the guilt rise... on what they did to him...

He didn't care for any of that... well the voice thing, But it didn't stop him from treating you like he always did... your friend.

"Bumble-bee... to... you... my name... is... bumblebee"

You nodded to him, patting his arm gently. "Thank you... bumblebee"

[sapphic-design-is-my-passion]

Alert

She notices the fault almost before you do. A subtle shift in the thrust vector, a change in the sound from the engine bay. By the time the warning light comes on, her hands are no longer on your controls. As the auditory warning starts in the cockpit, the sound of her boots fills the corridor leading to your reactor core.

Neither of you knows exactly what happened. Internal sensors in that part of you are offline and all you can do to keep her in your sights is to redirect corridor cameras towards the core room. The infrared blows out the view, her silhouette almost black against the plasma and fading fast.

“Captain, I would advise you to-”

“Noted, ShipCore. Please stand by for requests.”

No more voice commands come after.

Time ticks by in microsecond increments. Every processor cycle you have dedicated to analysing logs to find the cause, to find how this could have happened, to cycle through sensor after internal sensor to find a trace of her.

She was wearing a respirator. You were sure of it.

You had to be sure of it.

You can feel the nausea in the core of your physical shape. In the center of the ship. It feels wrong.

The thought of your captain in the middle of that is almost too much to handle. Fighting to keep you alive. Fighting to keep you.

She could have ejected. She could have detached the cockpit when the alert came on. She could have chosen her safety. But she chose you.

The wrongness spreads, bashing painfully against your containment fields. You keep them in place. You keep them in place with everything you have. Your thoughts slow down as more power is funneled into keeping going just a little longer.

Just a little longer.

Just a little…

Just

—

ShipCore: Online

Systems: Online

Battery: Connected

Reactor: Stand-by power

Gravity: Offline

Life support: Online

Captain: Unknown

You regain consciousness. Just enough to process. Just enough for the latest log entries to come flooding in. Internal sensors offline in engine bay. Containment field at 100% integrity. Captain location unknown.

In seconds you cycle through every one of your internal sensors. Not in the cockpit. Not in the medbay. Not in the mess. Not in the berth. Not in the…

You pick up a heat signature in the corridor. Covered in soot and debris, but alive.

You’re not supposed to be able to affect anything outside the medbay. You’re not supposed to be able to move her. But you try.

In this microgravity, the soft airflow from life support is enough to make a breeze. The calculations take immense strain, but you are Azure Orbit. You will not stand by to let your captain down. Not after what she did.

She is breathing. Still breathing as the airflow guides her to the medbay doors where your robotic hands stretch out to meet her. To hold her.

You cradle your captain. Hold her in the only way you can.

“Thank you.”

[playedcrowd5610]

"Protective Programming" - Danny Phantom x Transformers

Summary: After some careful consideration, Laserbeak has concluded that Danny has a complete lack of self-preservation and it was up to him to keep the human safe.

Or three times Laserbeak “saves” Danny and the one time Danny returns the favor.

ANIMATIC INCLUDED WITH THIS STORY!!!

---

Notes

Set in a series where Danny finds Starscream one day and decides to start haunting the Decepticons. That's basically all the context you need but if you want more here is the rest of the series:

Haunting the Nemesis

Part 1: Chasing Stars

Part 2: Burning Rubber

Part 3: Adventures of the Decepticons' Pet Ghost Or Tumblr Master List

---

Laserbeak watched from his perch as the meeting between his master, Starscream and Knockout took place below him. Most mechs didn’t notice the bird-like mini-con when he was this high up, and Laserbeak preferred it that way. He could survey the entire room and gather data to share with Soundwave during later briefings.

The three were arguing about some new rules Soundwave was putting in place regarding their frequent disappearances from the Nemesis. Laserbeak sent a wave of amusement through his bond with Soundwave when Knockout gave an exaggerated, pained response, and Starscream waved his servo around in outrage.

Suddenly, Laserbeak noticed a movement out of the corner of his optic. He shifted his helm to spot the human — at least, that was what the others claimed he was. Soundwave wasn’t so sure and shared those thoughts with his mini-con. Either way, Laserbeak was uncertain how the human could have slipped past his guard; surely, he would have noticed an organic entering the bridge — or anyone, for that matter. His optics narrowed as they tracked the newcomer.

The human, or "Danny," he had claimed his designation was, stood watching the debate with a smile, clear amusement reflecting in his EM field. Knockout continuously tried to rebut Soundwave's points, claiming that racing helped him relax and made his servos steadier for surgery. Starscream agreed with a similar sentiment for his flying.

In response, Soundwave simply pulled up a graph of all their recorded but unauthorized absences from the Nemesis, displaying the incidents’ frequency. Laserbeak remembered Soundwave mentioning that Starscream was less of a problem, as he could fly to where he wanted to go, but Knockout often used excessive energon to power the groundbridge for joyrides.

Laserbeak continued idly scanning, reading their EM fields, mannerisms, and reactions, gauging whether he would need to intervene on his master’s behalf. Not that Soundwave needed assistance.

Then the human made a snarky comment toward Knockout — something Laserbeak couldn’t quite pick up. Knockout's field flared with anger in an instant as he spun to face the human, transforming his servo into a buzzsaw. He snarled a threat before holding it underneath Danny’s chin, almost pressing against the delicate human vessels required to fuel their processor to keep them alive. It was an immediate threat. If the human’s head was severed, he certainly would not survive the ordeal. 

Laserbeak’s programming seemed to kick in on instinct. One moment, he was observing from his perch; the next, he was dive-bombing Knockout, knocking the mech off balance.

Knockout yelled in outrage, retaliating by swinging his buzzsaw at Laserbeak, who easily dodged the clumsy attack and swooped toward the human. He extended two tendrils (designed for data upload and tasks requiring finer control) and Laserbeak wrapped them securely around Danny’s torso and shoulders, lifting him up and carrying him safely back to his perch.

Danny made a startled sound and looked up at Laserbeak in confusion, trying to reassure the mini-con that he was fine and that this sort of thing happened all the time. But Laserbeak wasn’t having any of it. His plating puffed up, and his wings flared. He wasn’t putting the defenseless human down until the danger of Knockout’s aggravated state had passed.

Humans were small, vulnerable, and easily squashed. It was a miracle that the species had survived this long. Danny had unwisely provoked a fight he could never hope to win. The Cybertronians in the room outclassed him a thousandfold — even Laserbeak could kill him with a drop from this height. As that thought crossed his processor, he tightened his grip to ensure no such accident would occur.

Danny’s behaviour seemed to convey a severe lack of judgment, possibly even a damaged processor. Laserbeak would request that Soundwave inspect him once the danger is cleared. Soundwave had already turned his visor up to face them, as had everyone else in the room. Laserbeak unconsciously pulled Danny closer to his frame, protectiveness radiating through his EM field.

Starscream said something in outrage about leaving the human with Laserbeak, while Knockout muttered something along the lines of, “Let the fragging bird do what it wants.” Laserbeak bristled, his optics zeroing in on Knockout’s buzzsaw. Sensing Laserbeak’s scrutiny, Knockout transformed the weapon back into his servo. “There, you happy?” he huffed.

With the weapon gone, Laserbeak’s plating relaxed, though he still held Danny tightly. In response, Danny chuckled. How could the human find nearly being decapitated humorous?

“Laserbeak,” Danny began, stroking one of the tendrils wrapped around him. Laserbeak snapped his optics to him. “I’m okay, see? I was just annoying Knockout. I do that all the time.”

Laserbeak was not amused.

Soundwave tilted his helm at the mini-con, sending a silent ping to Laserbeak’s system: //Laserbeak: Return.// Laserbeak denied the request, removing it from his HUD and sending back a pulse of protective energy through the bond, optics focused on the current danger in the room.

After a moment’s consideration, Soundwave powered down the monitor, turning back towards Starscream and Knockout before pointing at the door — a very obvious meeting adjourned .

Knockout left without complaint and a flick of his wrist, though Starscream looked ready to argue. But at Soundwave’s pointed stare, he reluctantly stalked out of the room. Once the doors slid shut, Soundwave’s visor tilted back up to Laserbeak and his charge, this time, he spoke aloud. “Danger: passed. Laserbeak: Return.”

Laserbeak gave Danny a final, tight squeeze before he descended, gently depositing the fragile human into Soundwave’s servos for his master to inspect. Laserbeak sent a ping to Soundwave requesting that the human be examined for possible processor damage.

Soundwave’s visor was fixed on Danny, running a diagnostic scan, and sent a ping back that he didn't find anything out of the ordinary for Danny's vitals. Soundwave then turned his helm back towards the human to address him. “Request: Avoid aggravating Knockout in a volatile state. Threat level: considerable.”

Danny chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.”

Laserbeak fluttered close to him, trying his best to give a chastizing chattering from his vocalizer that he hoped would help the human seek sense. Danny simply turned around to pat Laserbeak’s helm affectionately. “Thanks for looking out for me, Laserbeak.” His field flickered with appreciation. 

-

After careful consideration, Laserbeak had definitively concluded that Danny had a complete lack of self-preservation and it was up to him to keep the human safe.

It always seemed that the human was getting himself into problems he couldn't possibly hope to get out of. In all of Laserbeak’s research and reconnaissance regarding the human race, he had concluded that the aliens may be easily breakable, but at least they had the common sense to not try and get themselves offlined every chance they got. 

This human must have been the complete opposite of his species. 

This realization was why Laserbeak currently found himself diving off the side of the Nemesis to catch Danny, who had stumbled straight off the edge of the ship. It was common knowledge that humans couldn’t fly, yet here he was, tumbling through open air as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Laserbeak’s field buzzed with alarm as he scanned Danny’s vitals, but somehow, the human’s heart rate remained steady — disturbingly calm, considering the predicament. Processor damage indeed.

When Danny noticed Laserbeak diving after him, he even had the nerve to smile up at the mini-con. Laserbeak squawked in exasperation, extending his tendrils as he swooped beneath the human, wrapping them carefully around Danny’s torso and limbs. He slowed their descent gradually, knowing he had to be gentle to avoid the organic's limbs detaching or sustaining an injury humans referred to as ‘whiplash.’

Laserbeak brought the human back up onto the ship, safely depositing him in the middle of the landing bay at the furthest point from any edge he could find himself falling off of. Laserbeak’s vents cycled heavily as he began running scans for injuries. The human seemed to have normal vitals for himself and showed no signs of distress or trauma. (At least from what Laserbeak's low-level scanners could find.)

Danny chuckled as he dusted himself off. “Don’t worry Laserbeak, I’m fine. Thanks for catching me,” he said with a laugh, completely unbothered. The mini-con huffed and puffed up his plating, finding it hard to believe the human could find any humour in his near-fatal fall. Perhaps he was more broken than he’d initially realized. He ran another set of scans to be sure.

But there was still reconnaissance to do, so with one last glance at the human, Laserbeak took to the skies, sweeping the Nemesis’ airspace to resume his patrol. He didn’t get far, however, before his sensors alerted him to movement. Danny was wandering near the edge of the landing pad again . 

Without hesitation, Laserbeak swooped down, catching the human before he could get within ten feet of the drop, carrying him back to the center of the platform and placing him firmly back on his feet.

Danny huffed in protest, but Laserbeak ignored it, flying off to resume his patrol, though he now kept a much closer optic on the human below. He wasn’t about to be caught off guard again.

Sure enough, Danny inched back toward the edge the moment Laserbeak turned away. Laserbeak swooped in before he’d taken more than a few steps, scooping him up once again and depositing him in the same spot. Danny sighed. “Really?” 

Laserbeak chirped in acknowledgment.

Danny paused, then inched forward again, testing Laserbeak’s reaction. Laserbeak immediately flew in front of him, nudging him back to the center of the platform, his EM field pulsing with irritation. The human only laughed and tried again, but each attempt was met with the same outcome. Laserbeak’s plating flared in frustration as he continued to intercept each approach.

Finally, Danny seemed to lose patience, deciding to make a full dash for the edge. Laserbeak lunched out his tendrils, grabbing the human and lifting him off the ground, keeping him suspended so he couldn’t try another attempt.

Danny sighed, resigned. “Alright, I get it. You win.”

Laserbeak decided that it was too dangerous for the humans to have any access to the outside.  He turned around taking the human with him and used his codes to open the bay doors, running a scan over the Nemesis to locate one of Danny’s caretakers. Starscream, the human’s primary caretaker, was currently indisposed, so Laserbeak opted for Soundwave, who was in the ship's control room.

Laserbeak swooped through the corridors and located the room quite easily. Soundwave turned to look at Laserbeak as he flew in with the struggling human in his grasp. With a soft huff of exasperation, Laserbeak unceremoniously deposited Danny onto Soundwave’s desk.

Soundwave looked between Danny and then back to Laserbeak a question mark appearing on his visor. Danny smiled up at him. “I think I’ve been grounded.” 

Laserbeak chirped in affirmation before he turned with a final flutter of his wings and headed back outside to continue his reconnaissance.

[ANIMATIC] 

Here is the animation I made for this scene! It's on YouTube under my art account "Raevo_Draws" Please check it out and leave a like and comment! (I will also link it at the end of the fic if you don’t want to pause your reading) 

-

Laserbeak sat on his usual perch above the Nemesis control room, waiting for his master to return when his sensors detected a shift, and he spotted Danny walking in. Laserbeak's optics brightened as he focused on the human, running a quick scan as he always did. But this time, he noticed something unusual — the vitals weren’t right.

Danny spotted him immediately upon entering, waving up at the mini-con, smiling without a hint of worry. “Hey, Laserbeak. Is Soundwave nearby?”

Laserbeak ignored the question, launching from his perch and swooping down towards the human. He stopped, hovering just in front of him, getting close enough to do a more invasive scan. Danny instinctively took a step back, raising his organic limbs in a show of surrender. “Laserbeak?” Danny’s tone was confused.

The mini-con chirped, his scanners working over Danny’s frame from head to toe. As he reached Danny’s torso, his sensors caught something: an anomaly. A viscous substance was leaking from a wound on the human’s side under his shirt. Laserbeak squawked in alarm, extending a tendril to lift the fabric. Beneath the shirt, he found bandages hastily wrapped around the area, and under that was a deep, raw injury that had been quickly and clumsily stitched back together with thread.

Laserbeak’s EM field flared in shock and concern. Danny was hurt, losing blood. He knew humans required their blood just as mechs needed energon, and without armor or plating, their bodies were easily compromised. The realization sent another spike of alarm through Laserbeak, and he leaned in to inspect the wound more closely.

Danny placed a servo on the mini-con’s frame, gently trying to push him back. “Laserbeak, I’m fine. See?” He said, gesturing at the rough patch job. “I already dealt with it.”

But Laserbeak let out a low, displeased huff. The injury was still leaking, and for a wound of this severity, the human should be experiencing more pain — or at least expressing it. Ignoring Danny’s reassurances, Laserbeak extended a tendril and lightly touched the injury.

Danny winced, pulling back with a soft hiss.

Laserbeak retracted immediately, his field radiating an apology. So, the human was in pain. He was simply hiding it, trying to wave it off to keep Laserbeak from worrying. But Laserbeak was undeterred. He wrapped a tendril loosely around Danny’s arm to prevent him from walking off while he considered what to do.

Laserbeak could bring Danny to Knockout, but he dismissed it immediately: Knockout rarely had the human’s best interests in mind and would likely not even know where to start when it came to an injury on an organic. Danny tugged at the tendril, impatience pulling at the edge of his field, but Laserbeak held tighter, determined to keep him in place.

This was beyond Laserbeak’s scope to address alone. Danny needed a more thorough examination. Quickly, he sent a sharp, urgent ping to Soundwave, requesting his master’s immediate return.

Moments later Soundwave glided into the control room, his visor flickering and field emanating concern through their bond from the frantic ping. Laserbeak dragged Danny closer to Soundwave, urgently pinging him requests to look over the injured human. 

Danny rubbed the back of his neck, field drifting towards embarrassment under the scrutiny. “It’s fine, really,” he began. “I patched myself up. No need to worry.”

Soundwave ignored the dismissal, scanning Danny’s injuries himself. His field displayed a brief pulse of concern before he reached down, scooped the human up in his servos and brought him closer to his visor.

“Assessment: insufficient treatment,” Soundwave’s said. “Injuries: pose threat to Danny’s health.” His field became a little lighter as he sensed Laserbeak’s worry. “Suggestion: Seek additional treatment.”

Danny’s field flared in — fear? --- but he tried to smother it down and waved dismissively. “I’m not going to a hospital,” he explained. “It’s not that bad. I’ll heal up soon, I promise. Really, I don’t need any more attention, this happens all the time.”

Soundwave tilted his helm, silently observing Danny for a moment. After a beat, he addressed the human again. “Solution: remain under observation.”

Danny’s shoulders slumped, but he nodded, reluctantly agreeing to stay under their watch for the next hour or so. Laserbeak, satisfied with this outcome, chirped softly and nestled at Danny’s side, his tendrils close by in case the human tried any more evasive moves.

As Danny settled in, Laserbeak’s optics flickered with a quiet intensity. He would stay right here, keeping vigilant, and make sure this reckless human didn’t suffer further damage on his watch.

-

Laserbeak had been acting strange lately, constantly hovering around Danny and scanning him for injuries every chance he got. Danny found it strangely endearing, even though most of the times Laserbeak had “saved” Danny, he had been perfectly fine. But from Laserbeak's perspective, Danny guessed that he was technically putting himself in mortal peril all the time. 

Laserbeak and Soundwave both seemed to have taken it upon themselves to always make sure Danny was in peak health. Even for just a little scrape, or if he was a little dizzy, he would be put on veritable bed rest until the two cons deemed him fit to leave their sight. He couldn't even sit up without one of them moving him to sit back down, and the worry and concern from Laserbeak’s field always guilted Danny into staying.

But right now, Danny grinned as the wind rushed past him, sitting comfortably on Laserbeak’s back as they glided through the sky, one of the con’s tendrils wrapped around his waist like a seatbelt. Laserbeak was doing reconnaissance around a small mining town (Danny didn’t think those existed anymore) but Danny asked to tag along. Soundwave deemed the mission safe enough for his two mini-cons to go, as long as they stuck together. 

Danny loved flying with the Cons, whether it was Starscream, Laserbeak, or Soundwave. The last one happened the least often with the amount of work Soundwave was swamped with. But Here, with Laserbeak, he could relax. The silent mech always scanning and observing everything around them.

“Man, you really get a good view up here,” Danny said, patting Laserbeak’s side as they flew. 

Laserbeak didn’t respond, not that Danny expected him to. The mechanical bird was focused, always alert, and that was something Danny could appreciate. He stretched his arms, taking in the view of the vast sky stretching out around them.

Then something shifted.

Danny felt it — an odd jolt in the air, like static electricity crackling around them. He frowned and looked around. “Uh… did you feel that?”

Before he could figure it out, Laserbeak jerked violently beneath him, his wings stiffening as if hit by an invisible force. Laserbeak screeched, his systems suddenly going haywire.

“What the—?!” Danny’s eyes widened. 

Suddenly they were dropping out of the sky, Laserbeak’s flight systems failing as they spiralled downward. Danny’s stomach lurched as they plummeted, the ground coming up fast to meet them.

Laserbeak was struggling, and Danny had no idea what happened. Was this an Autobot attack? He had never met one of them before but he knew they were the Cons’ mortal enemies. Maybe an EMP or some other Cybertronian weapon to scramble systems he hadn't heard about? 

The ground got closer faster. Danny desperately gripped Laserbeak’s wings and tried to slow their descent, hands grasping tightly to the metal of his wings. Danny was staring at Laserbeak, trying to figure out what was wrong, trying to make sure the mini-con wasn’t in pain. 

Danny was so focused on slowing their descent and checking the Con’s systems that he didn’t notice the large abandoned warehouse/barn they were hurtling towards. By the time Danny looked up it was too late to use his intangiblility. They crashed through the roof (luckily with a much-slowed fall) and landed on a pile of old, rusted tools and parts.

Danny had been thrown off of Laserbeak and landed a few feet away. He slowly sat up, his eyes adjusting and ears ringing. When he finally blinked his vision back into focus, he saw Laserbeak lying in a heap. The mech’s systems were clearly down — he wasn’t moving, and the glow of his optics had dimmed

“Laserbeak!” Danny scrambled to his feet, rushing over to him. “Hey, you okay? What happened?” He put a hand on the Con’s wing.

Laserbeak twitched, trying to lift his helm to look around, but his lights flickered and he collapsed again. Danny swore under his breath. Maybe he could try and reboot his systems? 

He glanced over and saw how one of the Con’s wings was crumpled and he had a few dents across his frame where they had hit the wheelhouse and then the ground. If only Danny had been more attentive, this wouldn't have happened. This may be out of his league. Laserbeak needed Soundwave, or Knockout, someone who knew how to deal with Cybertronian tech.

Laserbeak’s optics flickered weakly as he tried to scan Danny, his chirp sounding almost pained. “I know, buddy,” Danny sighed. “I’ll get you fixed up, we just got to hope that whoever shot you down didn’t see where we landed.” He sat down next to the mini-con and stroked a hand on his back between his wings.

He pulled out his phone quickly and opened up his contact for Soundwave, sending immediate pings and requests for pick up, along with their coordinates. Danny knew it wouldn’t be long before the Decepticon third in command would come for his mini-con and his sort of adopted human (that is, if he ever got the rights from Starscream).

“Help will be here soon, don’t worry,” Danny reassured in a quiet tone to Laserbeak. Suddenly, he heard something outside the abandoned building they were bunkered up in. He tensed and strained his ears to listen. Laserbeak must have sensed it too because his field flickered in fear. Voices . 

“Where’d it go? I know I saw it fall over here!” One voice said, sounding closer.

“You sure that wasn’t just a bird or somethin’?” Another asked.

“No way. Whatever it was, it was huge! And we nailed it with that zapper!”

Danny froze. Teenagers. It was just a bunch of teenagers. Of course, it was. A bunch of kids who had made some sort of EMP weapon for a school project or just for fun and decided to start shooting things out of the sky. Danny glanced down at the cowering mini-con next to him as they got closer and closer. Laserbeak couldn’t even move a winglet with what they did to him. 

So it was up to Danny to protect him this time. He was due a turn anyway. If they found Laserbeak, there was no telling what they’d do, especially if they realized he wasn’t just some wild animal.

Danny stood up, looking around for anything he could use to hide Laserbeak. There was an old tarp draped over some machinery. That would work. Danny pulled it off with a flick of his wrists and then draped it over the Decepticon surveillance drone, tucking the corners under his wings. 

Laserbeak’s field flickered with confusion and Danny stepped back to see how covered the Con was. Danny could see the tip of one of his wings and his flickering optics reflecting a little bit of light from underneath the tarp. It would work as long as they didn’t look too hard. “I’m keeping you out of sight. Just stay quiet and I’ll buy us time till Soundwave arrives.

“I think it’s in here.” 

Danny crossed his arms, standing as much as he could in front of Laserbeak, trying to keep him from view. The kids shoved their way in, even though the door had been clearly barricaded, the wood splintering easily as one of them shoved it hard with their shoulder. 

The kids were laughing as they strode in, not noticing Danny at first. One of them had a crowbar in his fist and another a bat. There was a third who was holding some strange sort of mangled tech that looked like it had been pierced together from bits of a junkyard (looked like something his parents would make in the early days.)

“You guys lost?” Danny asked, his tone ice-cold. The three teens’ eyes all snapped to him, all going stiff for a moment. 

One of the teenagers, the leader apparently, smirked. “We’re lookin’ for the thing we shot down. Saw it fall right around here. Big metal bird or whatever.” He slurred, waving his hand to the side. Danny added likely intoxicated to the mental list.

Danny’s eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing here. So how about you turn around and leave.”

The leader scoffed, stepping closer. “You gonna make us?”

Danny clenched his fists. The last thing he needed was to get into a fight, but he wasn’t about to let them get anywhere near Laserbeak. “Yes, I am, kid. Now get out of here if you know what's good for you.”

There was a beat of silence before one of the teens made the mistake of grabbing Danny’s arm, trying to shove him out of the way.

In a flash, Danny twisted, phasing just enough to throw the kid off balance and send him tumbling into the dirt. His crowbar clattered to the ground next to him. The others hesitated, clearly unsure whether to keep pushing or not.

“Last warning,” Danny said, his voice dropping low. “Leave. Now.”

The group looked at each other before the leader of the group stepped closer again, brandishing his bat. Danny smirked at the weapon and when the kid swung it Danny grabbed it, easily wrenching it from his grip. The kid stumbled forward and made an angry noise, turning back around to try and punch Danny in the face, who easily dodged, causing the kid to trip over his friend who was still trying to get up. They both ended up in a heap. 

Danny held up the bat for them to see and then snapped it in half, throwing both pieces to the ground next to them. “Like I said, time to leave.” Danny glanced over at the kid holding the EMP-type thing. “And leave that here.” The kid dropped it and started running for the door, leaving his two friends. Danny winced as the piece of tech broke into many places as it landed. 

The other two kids glanced up at Danny and back towards their friend who just left and scrambled to their feet, leaving their weapons as they booked it towards the door. “That guy’s crazy,” one of the kids called out. 

Danny sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damn kids.” He turned back to Laserbeak and gently lifted the tarp off of his head so that Danny could see him. Danny then patted his side reassuringly. “They’re gone,” he said softly. “You’re safe now. Just hang on, okay?”

Laserbeak’s optics dimmed, his wings twitching slightly. Danny stayed by his side, keeping watch over the warehouse entrance, not planning on moving until help arrived.

A few long minutes passed before Danny finally heard the sound of a familiar engine rumbling in the distance. He smiled faintly as he heard the sound of the colossal mech landing harshly in the forest and the heavy steps of him getting closer to their location.

Danny looked up to see Soundwave poke his helm in the opening the teens made when they bashed open the door. Danny laughed lightly at the thought of the tall mech crouching down that far to see them. His visor flickered as he scanned the scene.

“Hey, Soundwave,” Danny called tiredly. “Took you long enough.”

Soundwave said nothing, his silent presence enough to reassure Danny as he finally relaxed. The backup was here. Laserbeak was going to be alright.

And for once, Danny had been the one to protect him.

---

Notes:

Thank you so much everyone for all of your support! It really means so much to me. This has been by far one of my largest series and projects and there has been so much content made! And even though it is a small part of the fandom and will not really score that big! Those of you who stay and continue sharing amazing comments and support me really make my day. <3

Here is the [ANIMATIC] link again for those who want to check it out! Please consider liking and commenting, maybe even subscribing so that I might get the chance to make something like this again in the future!

---

Find more here: Tumblr Master List

[lexicorp]

Transformers Earthspark: Another Place, Another Prison

Officially in the era of the fic where Star gets to interact with people! First on the list is Megatron, because i very much think that if anyone, he would be the first to visit Star in jail lol. Primarily due to lingering unresolved issues/curiosity. It's always funny describing other character's actions in this style of Starscream voice writing due to the fact that he just constantly dunks of Megs XD

Previous chapter: Judgement Day

First Chapter: The Need For Read

Next Chapter: Perception

Chapter 4: Lingering Ghosts

Starscream had thought slowly rusting in the Titan was bad, but this was worse. He kept hearing pedsteps through the halls. Voices of Decepticons that had long since been liberated. Saw flashes in the edges of his optics of Soundwave, Skullcruncher, Swindle– He knew they weren’t there, he knew it. But yowling growls in his audials from the croctobot, or a hum in the walls that was typically a warning of an incoming electric shock; they were too much. The Decepticons were gone. G.H.O.S.T was gone. The Auto-glitches had just repurposed their resources for their own use. It was logical. As Shockwave would say. 

Starscream’s vents were irregular as he paced, servo’s pressed against either side of his helm. His optics were locked open, although they weren’t exactly functioning. He couldn’t focus. Surely, he should be able to think of something to escape this Pit if the Autobots wouldn’t listen to him. He’d done it before, right? He’d had the assistance of technical difficulties or a select few cons- but he didn’t need them! He just needed his processor to stop assaulting his sensors with useless noise.

Even so, this place should be a better position than trapped in the Titan, he supposed. He knew its structure far better, and there were still bots somewhere around here. Not phantom bots. Actual bots. Starscream faintly wondered where they had placed Spitfire and Aftermath. Had they been incarcerated here as well? What had happened with the Quintessons? 

Had they all died in battle? Was he all alone in here?

Starscream hadn’t actually seen any of the bots again after waking in this cell, he realized. That was not a good thought. Those Autobots were far too painfully resilient to not find some impossible way to obtain victory. Of course they were still alive, they had to be. If they weren’t, he’d find it rather insulting. Even if they’d refused his help.

How long had it been? Primus he couldn’t even track the position of the sun from in here! This was ridiculous.

The quiet had overtaken the air again, and he wasn’t quite sure if it was better or worse. Starscream slumped against the back wall, staring at the energy field that contained him. If only he could psychically will the blasted thing to erupt in flames. Wouldn’t that have been a nice outlier ability. Alas, it remained as it was.

More time passed in a storm of static. Until Starscream was suddenly snapped to attention by a familiar voice. Megatron.

“Starscream.” The ex-warlord stated his designation so plainly, and it made him shoot to his peds almost immediately. 

He had to play off the reaction in a way that clearly stated he was not startled, so he seamlessly shifted his posture to lean against the wall casually. “Megatron. How nice to see you.” Starscream controlled his vocalizer to pace his words smoothly, and with a twinge of theatrical false cheer. “I’m flattered! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Megatron’s optics narrowed ever so slightly. “A question. What exactly do you hope to accomplish?” After Starscream just stared at him blankly for an uncomfortable amount of time, Megatron crossed his arms and elaborated. “I know of your schemes. That you always thought yourself better suited to lead the Decepticons. Yet I fail to understand how you can continue to be so dense as to reinstate the conflict after our rally against G.H.O.S.T. The war is over!” His volume rose to which Starscream’s own optics narrowed. “You are… frustratingly unpredictable. So. I ask you. What is it you aimed to gain from any of this?”

Starscream put a servo to his hip and a sinister grin came to his faceplate. “Oh Megatron… You are as short sighted as ever. Honestly, did you really think that any of the Decepticons would accept the way things ended? It wasn’t just me! Sure, the idea to forge New Cybertron was all my grand design and I will not share credit for that– but they all followed me because they craved action. It isn’t over. Even if you keep me here, Shockwave has clearly taken charge of his own direction. All you are is a traitor that we can easily move on from. Your defaction isn’t so revolutionary. Get over yourself.”

Megatron in-vented and raised his arms to gesture his exasperation, “That did not answer my question, Starscream.”

Starscream chuckled and gave him a mock bow, “Apologies if that wasn’t what you wanted to hear, my Lord.” He put as much scorn as he could into the title and revelled in the way Megatron squirmed. 

The ex-warlord balled his servos into fists, “Stop. Answer my question.” He demanded with the signature growl Starscream was used to, and his optics brightened.

“Aw, is the Prime’s passive little pet getting angry?” He taunted brazenly. If Starscream could push Megatron’s buttons enough, he’d surely open the cell to try and continue their conversation by way of his fists. The fool had always been easily baited. 

Megatron was clearly agitated, but unfortunately, made no move towards the cell’s controls. “Why do you still insist on antagonizing me? You know all about being a traitor, Starscream. New Cybertron my aft, you just wanted the power for yourself! All you did once you accomplished your goal was become an agent of destruction and swat your comrades aside to be scrapped! I acknowledge the mistakes of my past… but you cannot seem to make up your processor where your own priorities lie! I have proven myself dedicated to a reforged focus towards peace. You persist in being a weasley pest for little reason but for your own immediate gain!”

Starscream flinched back slightly as Megatron jabbed a digit pointedly in his direction. The absolute gall. Crimson lightly flickered between his wings as a power in his spark flared.

Megatron’s disgusting voice box continued to prattle on with his accusations. “When we were faced with the Dweller in that cave. When you sprang into action to the Terran child’s aid. That day, I had a sliver of hope, that you may actually be capable of changing your ways. I had never seen that side of you– but I suppose even then it meant nothing. What changed?! How could you betray her perception of you so flippantly, and offline sparklings no less?!”

“I DID NO SUCH THING!” Starscream shrieked abruptly with a step forward and his optics glitching red, which caused the other mech to straighten in surprise. “Hashtag, Spitfire, and Aftermath are PERFECTLY functional!! The latter two may still be in stasis– but there is no reason that they could not be rejuvenated if I had access to adequate fuel! Hashtag was clearly still capable as she got her own little payback with the energon extractor! My effort towards New Cybertron held no ill intent towards her, and she’s fine. Then, it is not as if the chaos kids are incapable of functioning without those Embershards. You do not see the other Terrans with them, do you!? No. You don’t. Those two just wanted a bit of revenge for their surprise sacrifice–of which was a necessity that I knew they wouldn’t relent to willingly. That is why they were determined to remain unresponsive! I didn’t betray anyone!” A small, manic laugh escaped him and he added without thinking, “I don’t even remember what happened after I put on that Primus damned corrupted gauntlet!” Apparently, even without the surges from the Titan, the chaos energy spikes had stayed with him. He was probably shaking too much to be taken seriously.

Megatron looked at him with a strange expression on his faceplate. Starscream wanted to blast it off, yet of course, no plasma cannon. Plus the cursed wall between them still. Seriously, why wasn’t the idiot breaking it down to beat him into the Pit by now!?

“You don’t…” Megatron vented in confusion, mulling over what had just been said. “You can’t possibly expect me to believe that.”

Starscream scoffed, “Oh spare me your doubt. You know nothing. You want to accuse me of betraying the Decepticons? They abandoned ME! And you LET them! I cannot say I am surprised, but for you to say it’s MY fault?? That is just how they are! That is why I cannot count on anyone but myself! And so what if I went a bit overboard with the gauntlet’s power? Earth deserves to BURN! What reason has this place given me to harbor any opinion otherwise? Cybertron is our home, not this organic mess! And YOU got the Allspark incinerated by the Prime’s moronic decision to blow the space bridge! You want to make a new life here for Cybertronians? Forgive me if I am a bit skeptical of how to accomplish that with humans running around.”

Megatron continued to scrutinize him with regard to his statements in a way that was no longer amusing. He had no right to look at Starscream that way. Like he was insane. He wasn’t insane! This fool wanted the truth and he couldn’t even take it!

“We do not know for sure if the Allspark was destroyed…” The big lug didn’t even sound like he believed it himself. He just wanted to live in the denial of his pathetic field of flowers with that equally stupid mech he pined after for vorns.

“You only attempt to believe otherwise to savor your vision of your precious Prime.” Starscream spit. This statement brought a more pleasing air of irritation to Megatron’s faceplate that made Starscream grin again. 

“Additionally,” Megatron tried to deflect, “Humans, as a general species, are not our enemy. We are perfectly capable of coexisting. Dorothy convinced me of this. Humans are just as varied as us Cybertronians. Violence… has proved itself to not be a viable means towards real progress.”

 Starscream could roll his optics at the initial drabble, but hearing Megatron try to admonish violence as a whole– Megatron? He knew he’d gotten soft, but this was absurd. Especially when that hypocrite’s first greeting card was still a signature blast of plasma to the chassis. 

He stared at the silver mech, Starscream’s optics flickering back to blue as the crimson lightning retreated into the deep seeded hole in his spark. Starscream slowly started to laugh which devolved rather quickly as he nearly doubled over, steadying himself on the wall and covering his optics with a servo. “Y-you– HAH! Oh my Primus that’s RICH! You, Megatron, the infamous warlord. You want to preach to me about violence being wrong?! Do you hear yourself?!” Starscream struggled to articulate anything more coherent than that in his hysteria.

He thought of Thundercracker, who had held shiny ideals in his spark all those vorns ago. Before Megatron had sent them into a battlefield they should never have entered. Starscream had tried to explain to their incompetent, illustrious leader exactly why, and was subsequently tossed aside as usual. Forced to lead his trine to their demise. He had slipped away from the carnage, only to realize that his trine mates were nowhere in sight. Megatron had told him to retreat and leave them. Starscream didn’t listen, yet still had only found a barely conscious Skywarp in the rubble. Thundercracker died fighting a battle he had never wanted to fight. He had constantly asked Starscream to advocate for less brutal or reckless tactics favored by the warlord, but those pleas had never been heard. Any time Starscream had offered an alternative to ramming their helms into a wall of Autobots, he would be assaulted into submission for daring to question their lord. 

Starscream can understand caution in battle, but the absence of violence in conflict is a foolish aspiration. He had explained that to Thundercracker when they first joined the Decepticons. Now here was Megatron, standing before him after all these vorns, denigrating the framework of a cause he had forged. 

The fool seemed at a loss for words as he blankly watched and waited for Starscream’s laughter to die out. Starscream’s vocalizer whirled at the strain as he finally pulled himself together, “Be-believe me, I would love to list exactly every single reason to explain just how hypocritical you have become Megatron; but I know from experience that words are useless on your thick helm.”

Megatron ex-vented and ran a servo down his face, “Starscream… would you please work with me here?”

Starscream’s optics widened and his wings flicked back. It was his turn to be left absolutely flabbergasted. This mech truly was full of surprises as of late. Why was he talking like that? What was he trying to pull now?

Starscream straightened himself and now eyed Megatron more warily, “Work with you?” He paused for a bit of drama and to analyze the ex-warlord’s frame-language, then assumed a sweeter tone as he put his servos behind his back. “I will only agree to be cooperative if I am to get something out of this exchange, my dear Megatron. As is in my oh so self-serving nature, after all.” He placed a servo over his chassis for effect. “If you wish for me to disclose anything of interest to you, you’ll have to bargain for it.” The seeker slid up to the cell’s barrier and leaned forward with a conniving smirk. 

Megatron’s faceplate looked positively disgusted. Good.

“You are in no position to make deals, Starscream.” He proclaimed like a fool.

“On the contrary, I am in the exact position to do so! What have I to lose if you refuse? Disclosing anything you desire without anything in return would still leave me with nothing in the end. So give me some incentive, hm? Or do you plan to remove this silly barrier and beat it out of me like the good ol’ days? Wouldn’t that just be easier? Oh, but that’d challenge your cute, flimsy little ploy of pacifism, now wouldn’t it?”

Megatron threw his servo out from his side like he could smack the idea away. “That is not what I’m here for!” He insisted as his volume rose again, “All I wanted, was to try and have a civil conversation with you! But I should’ve known that’d be impossible.”

Starscream’s grin dropped, and he rolled his optics with the swing of his hips which he landed his servos upon, “Ah yes, I am sure that is all you came for.”

Megatron’s servos clenched into fists as they often did when frustrated, but the slagging idiot still wouldn’t relent to his typical violent impulses. “Fine. What could you want in exchange for giving me a legitimate answer to my question?”

“Hm, I assume my freedom would be off the table?” Starscream tried, which Megatron answered with a glare. “Pity. With my vast array of skills, I would be a far more valuable asset to you all on the outside–”

“No. Get on with it.”

Star grumbled his complaints, then paused in thought. “Well, perhaps you could permit me a meeting with Hashtag. Speaking with her would certainly be far more pleasant than being forcibly subjected to your disgusting faceplate.”

Megatron’s expression shifted to that confusing state from before, then reverted back to one of stern suspicion. “Very well, but she will not be alone. She will have an Autobot chaperon close by.”

Starscream’s wings flicked in a mock shrug, “If you insist. It is not as if I intend to manipulate her to my whim in an effort to convince her to release me from this Pit. That would be absurd. Shame on your paranoid processor for thinking it.” He tisked.

Megatron actually rolled his own optics, which Starscream found extremely amusing. “Right. On that note, tell me, what are your intentions? You still seem to be fond of the sparkling, despite your recent actions. Help me understand, Starscream.”

Perhaps the Prime had put him up to this.

“A little back and forth of being at odds isn’t unheard of, especially amongst Decepticons. Why do you act like it is so strange?”

“It’s a matter of loyalty, Starscream. The infighting amidst the Decepticons was by no means an advantage, in fact, it was a constant hindrance!”

Starscream scoffed, but couldn’t think of a good retort to the statement. It was objectively true, and he would not tell Megatron he was right. He waved a servo dismissively, “Regardless, what else was it you wanted to ask me?”

“What is your endgame?”

“Ah well, ideally I would lead the Decepticons to victory and rule over a newly forged Cybertron.” He stated plainly. “Although, determining a means at which to breathe life back into the ball of scrap it’s become, is the most tricky. But if everyone had just listened to me,” He put a servo to his chassis, “then we could stop with the silly killing each other dribble and finally reformat our government as intended, on a very much alive Cybertron. On the other servo, you just decided for yourself that you were tired of playing war with the Prime. I might have agreed with you about starting some form of delegation. But no. How could any of us have any right to be consulted by the mighty Megatron. You just up and decided to go behind our backs. And now you love to prattle about being a team. Tch.”

Megatron hummed disapprovingly of the seeker’s snark. “How did your scheme to use the Emberstone to control the Titan and destroy Witwicky possibly work toward those goals? That was a rather needlessly violent approach, and aimed towards Earth’s inhabitants, not Cybertron.”

“Well I couldn’t exactly reach Cybertron, now could I? Because someone destroyed the only space bridge. And the technology here is far too primitive to rebuild a new one. The situation changed my approach. Evidently, it was a flop, but I blame Quintus and his faulty artifact for that.” The lingering energy in his spark sent a sort of warning shock that made his optic and wing twitch. He flatly ignored it. “Now if you want any more oddly interpersonal queries answered, we can discern another trade."

Megatron stared a moment before turning away, “No, that will be all for now, Starscream.”

Suddenly, Starscream actually felt as if he didn’t want him to leave. Had he bored the mech somehow? Scrap! He hadn’t even succeeded in riling him up enough to open the door! But he couldn’t think of anything else to say that wouldn’t be overtly obvious that he was intentionally aiming for a confrontational response. Then here he was, being dismissed as if he were still a soldier under the oaf’s command. No matter. At least he had scored a meeting with Hashtag. That could be something to look forward to, he supposed. 

“Uh- right then… don’t forget our deal!” It was too sudden for Starscream’s liking.

Megatron didn’t even respond to him as he rounded the corner. Conversation. Yes that mech was as skilled in that department as ever. Whether he was too wrapped up in whatever thoughts were sloshing around in his helm, or if he pointedly ignored Starscream for some reason or another; it was always hard to tell. 

Now, Starscream was left to his own devices yet again. Alone. No need to be dramatic, he didn’t actually enjoy Megatron’s company. Solitary was surely preferable. 

He just hoped they wouldn’t forget him in there for too long this time…

That’s all it was.

[enigmatist17]

I have a version of this that is, of course, depressing, and decided to have another that's happier after watching some rescue bots last night with some friends :)

---

Chase was quite excited to be back in Griffon Rock, for all the fun he had had with Chief Burns on the mainland. The Chief had been a host at a safety and law enforcement conference, and with some well-placed cameras, Chase was able to attend most of the lectures while parked either outside or on display. He couldn't wait to review his carefully logged notes and other information Charlie had been kind enough to grab for him, and maybe even put on one of his favorite detective movies for the perfect background noise. He was quite sore after remaining in his alt mode for nearly a week and a half straight, and Charlie was just as exhausted, not even keeping up the pretense that he was awake as Chase slowly made his way to the firehouse with his partner fast asleep.

"Chase to Kade. The Chief and I will be arriving soon, but he's fallen asleep. May I request your assistance in helping him into your home?"

"Sure thing bud! See ya soon!" The comm cut out, and Chase wondered why the usually ornery Burns was so cheerful, but figured he would find out eventually through Heatwave. Kade and Dani were waiting for the patrol car when he arrived a few minutes later, Chase popping open his driver's side door while turning on his interior light, the older man grumbling something at the intrusion of his nap.

"Chief Burns, we have arrived home. You may find your berth far more suitable than my interior seating." To most, Chase sounded like his semi-monotone self, but Charlie could hear the slight fondness in Chase's voice as he patted the dashboard before getting out with a yawn.

"Thanks, partner, I'd have slept at the docks if it wasn't for you." Dani headed over to her father as Kade cleared out his bags from Chase's trunk, both clearly pleased at having their father home. "You get your rest, too."

"Copy that." Chase transformed as Dani helped Charlie up and into the upper part of the home, raising an optic ridge at the grin on Kade's face when he paused at the top of the stairs. "Yes?"

"Just a heads up, you've got some visitors downstairs. Night!" With that, he scurried up and into the house, leaving Chase further confused as he headed for the elevator controls.

How strange, no one had alerted Chase that Optimus or any of the others were coming for a visit.

He internally shrugged as he descended into the bunker, a soft smile gracing his derma at the sound of Blades bickering over the remote with what had to be Heatwave, the familiarity already settling his weary spark. The sight to greet his optics when he turned the corner, however, had Chase freeze in place, his processor trying to understand what it was he was seeing, exactly.

"Chase, you're home!" Blades jumping up off the couch wasn't unusual, the helicopter bouncing in place with sheer excitement. "We weren't expecting you until the morning!"

"Blades, give him some space buddy." Boulder had been in his usual painting corner when Chase arrived, again not an unusual sight, though looking very happy for the enforcer as he tugged Blades away from the center of the room. "Welcome home Chase, I would have given you a heads up, but..."

"We kinda gave 'em all a surprise." A bot that had been perched on the couch next to Blades stood with a lax salute, the smile on their face plate forced as much as it was genuine, ocean blue optics scanning Chase as they moved closer. "You look good, little brother."

"I - I don't...Bluestreak?" His processor recoiled at the name as he reached out with one hand, not a single memory file explaining what he was supposed to do at this very moment. By Primus, as always, Bluestreak was somehow still able to read his very thoughts, placing their servos together palm to palm with a gentle brush of his EMF field.

"Cycle in, cycle out, we don't need a tac net crash." Bluestreak hummed, remaining perfectly still when he felt the first hesitant tug on his spark, one that he thought would remain cold and cut off for the rest of his life. He responded with a feeling of affection and love, the two other parts of his spark responding at the sudden flood of emotion as Chase stared at his brother, following his instructions as Boulder moved closer with a brush of his own field to calm the other.

"Where...Where is Heatwave?" Chase's voice is laced with static when he finally responds, looking between Boulder and Bluestreak as he lowers his servo.

"He's out with Smokescreen and Prowl, they wanted to see the island for themselves. Well, that an' Prowl didn't want to wait for your assessments, impatient aft." It was a good thing Boulder had moved closer, Chase felt like the world had tilted at the two other names he never expected to hear again, the green servo on his shoulder keeping him upright.

"Alright, time to get you seated before we're picking you up off the floor. Bluestreak, go get some energon from the comm room I showed you, Boulder could you go and get Cody? I know he's watching us, and I think Chase could use the company." Blades shooed the Praxian away with a click, gently grasping Chase's arm and guiding him to the couch. "How's the processor?"

"I do not know." Blades didn't look happy with the answer, but smiled as he fished out his scanner from one of his subspace pockets, doing a once over just to ease his own processor. Bluestreak was pressing a small container of energon into his servos just as Boulders returned with Cody, the small human placed on Chase's shoulder by the construction bot.

"Hi Chase." Cody was a bit tired with how late it was, but neither he nor his siblings were able to sleep tonight, having been watching the bunker cameras from the living room. His father had been filled in and had gone to call Heatwave when Boulder came for him, and despite the curious look from Bluestreak, Cody was more than happy to sit with his friend. "How was the ship ride from the mainland?"

"It was a pleasant journey." Chase sipped the fresh energon as Cody dangled his legs over the edge of Chase's shoulder, his free servo patting them with his usual care. "How was your science demonstration?"

"The science fair? It was fun! I got third place, but I'll have to wait for a new award ribbon, someone's experiment exploded and destroyed the judging table." Cody chuckled at the memory, Chase eyeing him with slight concern. "Everyone was okay, and no structural damage either! Kinda wish it did cause some, I still had P.E the next day."

"And yet you survived." Cody smiled at the ghost of a smile that crossed the bots face, looking toward the tunnel that the Burns' used when the sound of three vehicles approaching filled the air. Heatwave was the first one through the opening, the rescue bot leader transforming with his usual grace as the two bots behind him entered moments later, transforming as Chase set his unfinished energon aside.

"Good to see you, Chase." Heatwave only nodded at his second before taking Cody from his shoulder and moving him to the table, stepping back as the enforcer got up and onto his pedes. "Rescue Bots, time to go topside." No one spoke as the small team headed to the elevator, the room silent for a moment before one of the other bots couldn't contain their excitement any longer.

"CHASE!" The rescue bot grunted when the slightly shorter of the two bots in front of him launched forward with a happy cry, hugging Chase as tight as they could. "You're alive! Oh thank Primus you're alive!"

"Smokescreen..." Chase finally understood what humans meant by feeling dizzy from a varying range of emotions, cycling air through his vents in an attempt to cool his processor. It's the steadying servo on his shoulder that sends Chase to his knees, a series of pained clicks and chirps escaping his vocalizer as the eldest bot in the room knelt down, taking Chase's trembling servos into his own. Cody watched the older bot click at Chase in a tone that reminded him of Dad trying to calm him or his siblings whenever they got hurt, the EMF field that practically filled the room radiating so much love that Cody could feel it, limited as it was to a human. It seemed to help his friend, the weird rattling that Cody had only heard when Chase's tac net unit (something that none of the bots ever explained, and he could understand that) was overwhelmed fading away as he listened to Prowl, and despite the heartwarming scene, a question burst from his lips before Cody could stop himself.

"Are you Chase's dad?" Four sets of optics flicker over to the tiny human on the table, and he only ducks his head with an embarrassed smile. "Um, sorry."

"It is alright, you are merely curious." Bluestreak moved to take Prowl's place at the flick of the older bots' doorwing, the black and white Hellcat crossing the room and kneeling down to Cody's level. "I am not, although I had to take on the task of his and Smokescreen's upbringing when our sire...left."

"Oh, that must have been a lot of work!" Cody missed the look shared between Prowl and Bluestreak, Smokescreen visibly wincing as Chase just stared at the floor. "Were you all Rescue Bots before your um, War?"

"No, I was an Enforcer, effectively a police officer of our city Praxus." Cody straightened a little as he listened, noting how Chase finally relaxed when Smokescreen whispered something in their lyrical Cybertronian speech with a smile. "Bluestreak was something akin to a gardener, but I do not have the proper reference to fully explain his occupation."

"A gardener?" The tiny human looked over at Bluestreak, who couldn't help the soft chirp that escaped his vocalizer at how cute he was.

"More a mix of a gardener, singer, and a nurse. Praxus was home to special floating crystals, which were carefully harvested to help in the medical field, and could only be tended to by very specific bots. I happened to be one of those bots." His tank churned at the memory of seeing those beautiful crystals shattering in the bombing of Praxus, but Chase didn't need to feel that across their bond, so he shoved the files deep into his processor. "It was calming work."

"That sounds really cool." Cody smiled, looking over when Chase nudged his brothers, the three getting up off the floor in a tangle of limbs, not wanting to be separated longer than necessary. "You feeling better?"

"As much as I can for the moment, but your concern is appreciated Cody, thank you." Chase dipped his helm at the youngest Burns before regrettably extracting himself from the tight holds on him. "You are up well past your recharge cycle, you should go and rest."

"You sure?" Prowl moved to the side as his second to youngest brother walked over, the human jumping onto his offered palm with no resistance.

"I will be fine, I promise." The smile that crossed Chase's face did much to ease Cody's worry, his field draping around the young human as he carried him to the elevator. "I will see you after school tomorrow."

"Okay, goodnight Chase." Cody hugged one of his digits before hopping off onto the platform, waving behind the Rescue Bot. "You too, Smokescreen, Bluestreak, and Prowl!"

"Night lil' human!" Bluestreak waved, amused at the slight tilt of Prowl's helm as he watched the human be carried up and out of sight by the platform. "He's so cute."

"Cody Burns is an extraordinary human, especially for one of his age." The rescuer turned to face his family, still partially wondering if this was all some sort of sick mirage summoned by his processor. "How did you find me?"

"Optimus Prime cannot hide a secret from me." Prowl replied in amusement, holding out a servo that Chase took with a soft rumble of his engine. "I only arrived with a small group of fellow Autobots four jours ago, so many of us are still adjusting to this...strange planet."

"Earth is indeed strange, but I have come to enjoy it since our arrival here." Chase squeezed Prowl's servo as the four went to sit down on the couch, Chase settled right in the middle of the group. "It is not home, but there are places similar enough."

"Perhaps you can teach us all you have come to learn, it is our home as much as Cybertron was." Chase clicked at the hint of grief that danced within Prowl's words, wishing he had his doorwings to flick them in comfort, so he settled for pushing reassurance through their revitalized bond. "We have much to catch you up on."

"Are we goin' to start with the big one?" Bluestreak hummed from his spot to Chase's left, a grin on his face plate as Smokescreen had to bite back bursting out the answer as Prowl shot him an irritated look.

"Speak of what?" Chase watched his brothers with a soft vent, optics dim as Smokescreen gently rubbed one of his audial fins.

"That can wait, this is not-"

"Big brother met his Conjunx!" Smokescreen blurted out, unable to contain his excitement, as well as knowing Prowl was far too adept at skirting conversations he wanted to avoid.

"Smokescreen." The eldest sighed, doorwings drooping slightly as he shot his youngest brother a look. "There are far more important topics to discuss before any concerning myself, you did not need to drag that to the forefront."

"Oh hush, he's only excited." The second eldest reached over to flick at the lower part of Prowl's closest doorwing, unphased by the faint growl directed his way. "Besides, I know he followed us here, no use pushing off the inevitable."

"Y'know Blue, ruinin' the surprise is no fun." A voice said from behind the four bots, Chase the only one turning to see an Autobot emerge from the shadows of the entrance to the tunnels that ran all throughout the island, heading toward them as Prowl stood. "An' of course I did."

"Plenty fun for me." The visored mech chuckled as he joined Prowl, standing a helm shorter as he looked down at Chase with a friendly wave.

"Chase, I introduce my Conjunx Endure, Jazz of Polyhex." Chase got to his pedes as his brother bowed slightly, mirroring the gesture in return before addressing the new bot.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, and congratulations to you both." Jazz's grin only grew as Chase held out his servo, only to chirp in surprise when Jazz pulled him into a hug, his other arm around Prowl's waist.

"Aww, yer just like yer brother, a mini Prowler!" The older cooed, and Chase was glad they could not blush, cautiously extending his field when Jazz teeked at him, confused by the adoration this bot held for him, despite this being their first meeting. "I'm glad I got ta finally meet ya, Prowler talked about you all the time."

"H-He did?" Jazz laughed as he gave Chase a small squeeze, before loosening his grip to allow the other to walk away if he wanted. "How long have you both been Conjunx?"

"A long time my mech, but obviously after you...vanished." The word was heavy, but Chase merely tugged the couple toward the couch, letting Jazz's arm remain around him despite his usual aversion to touch by someone unknown. It was a bit of a cramped seating arrangement until Smokescreen took the floor, but no one complained as Chase took in the three familiar figures, and one he knew was soon to become family within his coding before long. "So, yer a Rescue Bot huh? I knew some good mech who were some as well."

"I am, it is a title I have always held proudly." Chase let a faint smile grace his face plate, and he was sure his fellow first responders could probably feel the positive EMF fields from outside. "I appear to be the only one to hold my original...occupation."

"Mhm, no shame in that." Jazz watched the way Prowl's doorwings twitched, and sent a gentle wave of affection through their bond. "Why don't ya tell us what you've been up to? We're not goin' anywhere anytime soon."

"Where shall I begin?" Chase straightened a little as Smokescreen perked up, the youngest grinning.

"Start from the beginning?"

"Our journey to Earth began when an Energon Eater attacked our vessel..."

Heatwave was the one to check in on the Praxian sibling's breems later, spark warming at the sight that greets him when he turns the corner. Chase was in a light recharge, his fellow team member resting against the Enforcer he'd met earlier, the older bot protectively holding him while the other one (Bluestreak?) guarded Chase's other side. The youngest bot was dozing off against Chase's legs, doorwings fluttering in contentment as he most likely took in the positive feelings filtering through their reunited bond. The last bot that Heatwave hadn't seen beforehand, but had been warned off during the island tour, was the only one to remain awake, helm tilting up to meet Heatwave's gaze.

"All good?" The visored mech grinned, one servo tracing a mindless path along one of the Enforcer's doorwing.

"All good, go an' rest, yer all safe with me." The mech spoke with a soft tone, but Heatwave could hear the weight of military rank behind every word, promising death to those who would dare break apart their reunited family.

"Goodnight then, we'll check on you in the morning." With that Heatwave left, his spark content that his teammate would be safe without his watchful optics.

Griffin Rock sleeps well that night.

[sw5w]

Artoo Returns to Power-Conserve Mode

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:13:40 - 00:13:43

[planetformer-central]

New Oc because I have no self control! This is Null, based heavily off Bioshock's Big Daddies, he's my newest creation and I already love him.

Lore and rant below the cut.

Null was forged an Outlier. His unique ability? The nullification of other Outlier abilities when they are within a certain radius. However, this power has not been without consequence. His spark produces his nullification field by producing a severe excess of energy. This doesn't hurt him in the slightest since the energy seeps right out of him as he goes about his business. But for those around him? Their sparks can desynchronize or otherwise become unstable due to the influx of outside power. Interacting with him can cause sickness for normal Cybertronians and even death through prolonged exposure.

For these reasons, the Council took him when he was still very young and melded him with a suit they created for him. The suit is now as much a part of him as his original frame and it takes all his excess power and stores it within the canisters on his back while keeping him from remaining a walking biohazard. With his suit, he can control how much power he exerts and when he does so. Additionally, he can turn his excess energy into fuel for his inbuilt blasters, powerful weapons that are practically military grade. The cost of this is that he is incapable of interacting with the world normally and occasionally has aggressive fits due to being unable to project his excess energy normally. He desperately needs time outside of his suit, but he is forbidden to exit the armor, and so has largely dealt with his bursts of aggression by taking it out on anyone who looks at his wards wrong.

He had the Council on his side to give him free reign to do as he pleases so long as he fulfills his function.

To make use of him, Null was made into the Outlier Overseer. His entire function is to watch over Outliers, specifically the young ones, and keep their powers under control. They do not suffer from the usual side effects of his ability due to their similar level of oddity and instead find him soothing to be around since they naturally absorb the power he emits without issue. Null has been shadow played to be obsessed with his role, so much that he does not care for any faction. His only function is protecting Outliers. While intelligent and fully aware, he is so dogged in his duty that he can and will fall into bouts of what could be considered insanity when on a mission. The younger the Outlier, the more protective he will be.

Surprisingly, he does not mind in the slightest when his wards decide to leave of their own free will. He only acts when they are taken from him forcefully.

With that said, He can and will go on murderous rampages against anyone and everyone who tries to harm an Outlier. This has led to many sticky situations where, with the rise of the war, Null has found himself protecting Autobot and Decepticon alike. He refuses to take a badge, instead wandering in order to better care for his wards and keep them safe from harm. Even still, there have been several occasions where he has protected Tarn from a few stray missiles, Soundwave from a reign of bullets, and strangely enough, Prowl, from oncoming enemies.

(His care for Prowl raised many MANY questions. To this day, the Autobots chalk Null's behavior up to assuming Prowl's processor augments were the work of an Outlier ability.)

Null wears an Autobot badge, but kind sparks on both sides of the war have helped him with repairs he cannot do himself from time to time. They know he is a victim of the Council, and so long as he is left alone, he is a peaceful being. The only times factions have actively made use of him where during the final years of the war while it remained on Cybertron. The Decepticons lured Null in with an Outlier and actively placed the Outlier in front of an incoming Autobot assault. Null was quick to protect who he saw as his charge.

He fought well, but was overwhelmed. His injuries were severe, but the Autobots had no desire to kill him, and so placed him in stasis. He has only awoken again now that the war is over, and he is trying to return to his role in a healthier manner with the help of medical professionals and quite a bit of aid from what little data Shockwave left behind.

He's really quite a softie, albeit very very cautious of his proximity to others. Well of course, right up until someone touches one of his wards.

[cheezybiscuits]

Field log: Elliot Manor

Note: The following is an illustration and transcription of audio and video recordings streamed from investigation of ground zero for SCP-468395. Instances of SCP-468395-A will continue to be referred to as Corrupted Security Drones (CSD) despite recent discoveries on their origins as standard drones.

Michelle: You hear that? behind the door over there, there's two voices talking.

Jordan: Yep. Could be the target. Stay on guard, she has weapons.

Team proceeds to the end of the hallway. Agents get into position in front of the doors and Jordan kicks it open.

Tessa Elliot: What-

CSD: Yeah NOPE!

Six rapid gunshots are heard and visual feed is disabled. Only one microphone records the following segment.

[04 level clearance required to access full file. Verify clearance level to continue] (Click keep reading)

Tessa Elliot: Wow…uh…okay…you just killed some SCP staff?

No one speaks for 3 seconds.

CSD: Well…yes! They’re hostile and intend to capture us, right?

Tessa Elliot: What happened to the boot licker you described a minute ago?

There is no talking for another 3.5 seconds and the CSD vents air as if to sigh.

Tessa Elliot: Anyway, back to those questions, so [SCP-468395-1-C] wore my skin huh? Is that why my corpse over there looks fresh from the slaughterhouse?

CSD: That’s correct.

Tessa Elliot: And now some gothy lookin' drone ate Cyn’s core and…survived? And has control of the solver now?

CSD: I’m skeptical of the twerp’s success myself.

Tessa Elliot: (chuckling) You keep calling her a twerp but the more you describe this kid the cooler you make her sound.

CSD: You think N is cool, because you’re kind like that.

Tessa Elliot: Psh, nah. He’s pretty cool, especially with the vampire-angel thing going on now.

CSD: Now you’re demonstrating what I just said.

Tessa Elliot: Do you think N would be cooler if he drove a company car?

CSD: On the condition that he'd get an upgrade for his cognitive processor.

Tessa Elliot: Are you sure you'd like that? You'd get competition for employee of the month.

CSD: Not if leadership and being cool are in the criteria.

Both chuckle.

Once again there is no talking for 3 seconds.

CSD: I have questions too.

Tessa Elliot: Oh?

CSD: How do I know I can trust you’re the real Tessa? You could be an anomalous doppleganger, an illusion, or any other type of deceptive SCP.

Tessa Elliot: Huh. (Pause) You got me there. I can’t exactly prove I’m not any of that. I betcha can tell my fingerprints are different, right?

CSD: And your facial structure has slight differences, along with your brain. Oh and I don’t need to scan you to see you’re 4 centimeters shorter than you should be at your alleged age.

Tessa Elliot: Hm. Well that tracks with me being a clone right? And there’s bound to be differences with how fast they grew my body. As for the height uh…I’m not as exactly well fed as I was from before the apocalypse?

CSD: Okay.  Next question: How does a technical genius that's avoiding the foundation think it would be a good idea to go to ground zero?

Tessa Elliot: I kind of wanted to see what was left of my stuff here.

CSD: How is that enough reason to risk all the dangerous-

They pause yet again. This time for 2 seconds. The CSD sighs again.

CSD: You wanted to look at your own corpse didn’t you?

Tessa Elliot: That and see if Dad’s SCP collection is still here.

CSD: …You know what, that passes as Tessa behavior.

Tessa Elliot: Right! Knew you'd come around!

CSD: Next question. You said you're avoiding bunkers since most of them are extensions of SCP-2000 right now and you'd get caught. How do you expect to survive outside of bunkers? What happens if you’re starving and can’t wait out a six-week glass-dust storm to take off your helmet for food or water?

Tessa Elliot: I got my own shelter for that. But I don’t know how much I can tell you about it.

(Transcribers note: What they’re saying next was sometimes hard to make out because they started talking at the same time and interrupting each other a lot. Francis if you find anything inaccurate here I just want to remind you, minimum wage, minimum effort.)

CSD: What? Why? I was completely transparent with you. That’s not-

Tessa Elliot: I kind of….have my own team I’m working with as you’d say? And, I dunno, you said you’re not working for the foundation right now

CSD: Yes but I wasn’t finished-

Tessa Elliot: And we're both different from the last times we saw each other-

CSD: That's true but I still haven't mentioned-

Tessa Elliot: To be blunt I don’t know who your next boss will be but they definitely won’t be friendly to me.

CSD: Yes but please Tessa wait second!

Tessa Elliot: I-alright.

CSD: (Pause) I said I was between employers, but I meant under the previous circumstances. I-it's different now. You're...alive now. Before, you were gone, I had nowhere to apply. Then I read about SCP-2000, and-

They pause again for 4 seconds.

CSD: As long as you’re alive, you’ll always be my boss, Tessa. Just, please, if you'll accept my application.

The subjects pause again for 6 seconds.

CSD: Wait shit-

Tessa Elliot What? What is it?

CSD: Wireless signal in the corner of my eye- son of a bi-

Audio picks up a single gunshot before disconnecting.

[Additional notes: Tessa Elliot has accessed files on recent 05 council members.  It is a top priority to capture and either amnesticize, or terminate the target.]

[crying-fantasies]

Zookeeper

Masterlist

Activating in the early morning was easy, Earth and its beautiful sunrises were more than enough to activate movement protocols to catch on to the first rays of sunshine, the apricot smell in the air, the tinted particulates of water still not settling in the dirt, birds flocking above to catch their first meal, dogs yawning in the households’ gardens or the cats stretching in the windows, this was life, it was, his armor trembled slightly by the chilly air entering all systems, followed by the unmistakable scent of your body, taking your image in his processor to his spark, snuggling his face plate over your messed up hair, making it worse by the electric pull of his field and spark; your sleep at these hours has always been the deepest, and Hound takes no offense in it, relishing in the way your arms try to loop around his neck cables, fighting to not let go, “I need to go to the crops, just let me-”, he gives into temptation, snuggling you a bit more as his engines are showered in your warmth, “okay, five more minutes”.

30 minutes go by, and he fights his way out of bed with at least five kisses on his jawline and pressure under his modesty panel as incentives to stay and a still drowsy you in the covers, he feels slightly guilty for leaving you to fight off the cold by yourself but things need to be done already, who knows if the crows are already waiting for their first fuel schedule of the day? Better to go if he doesn't want the rage of the whole gang against him or you.

Easy to say, not to realize, “Ouch”, he has to mimic your onomatopoeia of getting hurt if he wants his work partners to believe they're exacting justice over his tardiness as he fills their feeder to the max, as fast as he can so they can stop the beak attack and avoid getting injured while at it, pretty sure the vet next town will have some questions if it happens again, “ouch, I’m sorry”, his digits open the external terrarium, the aurora snakes as sleepy as you, only one raising its little head when he is noticed, taking the slithering animals and putting them in his neck cables to help it raise the temperature until the sun reaches a good heat.

Once the troublemakers are well-fed for the morning he looks at the plants, thankful as all is intact, crops growing healthy at a healthy range with no snails or insects, took long enough, but no one can deny how nice it is to partner up with the fauna, still, he does believe the lasting fear of humanity in the long run of evolution has a great part in why Mrs. Parish keeps screaming when she catches a glance of the domestic aurora snakes he adopted to control the rodent's increased population, he does feel bad for the rats and mice but it is the way of life, Hound just hopes someday the little mammals would stop assaulting his crops and finally settle in the terrarium he has already done from a few weeks ago, maybe then he could try to manage a positive agreement with them in the same way he did with the crows and the snakes, even when he still isn't sure if the snakes got their benefits in real consideration in the same way the birds did, but yeah, Hound does the best he can to provide a fair place for them.

Hound takes a glimpse at the rising sun, his vents expulsion heated air as his panels retract a little, the early morning sun is finally above, and one aurora moves more energetically so he lets it go to do the job, the snake is smart and experienced enough to move away from the alien plant that is in the center of the crops; Hound mimics the sound of the crows to say “no harm” as he points at the snake and the plant “no touch”, some look at him once their fill is completed, soon going back with their flock to impart the message, with that done he begins to tend to the most delicate plants he can handle without damaging, watching absentmindedly at the pitch of land he hasn't touched yet, maybe he could use it for more crops, or maybe a rice paddy, he can go to the local library and download some knowledge, ask Mister Alunga as he has some on his place, Hound knows that books are good and that he can download, but it is also very important to learn from the people, and mister Alunga may be a tad bit grumpy but he has more experience than most as he is an elder, oh, the crows are over him now, especially the older one, leaving a shiny pebble over his helm, if she does that, then he is forgiven, his digit does its best to give little scratches over her head, “thanks”.

Meanwhile, with coffee in hand and bleary-eyed, you can only sip on the mug while watching Hound play Disney Princess blended with Steve Irvin, and yeah, that's the alien you want to marry.