#Optical Light Source

[sunmafiber]

Demystifying the Fiber Identifier: Unveiling the Secrets of Light Measurement

Specialized equipment used to measure the strength of light signals in optical fibers is known as an optical power meter. Optical power meter measures optical power quantitatively in quantities such as watts (W) or decibels (dBm), providing vital insights into the performance and health of optical networks.

Operation and components: Optical power meters are made up of a photodetector, which transforms light into electrical signals, and a display unit, which displays the measured power. The wavelength range of the light signals to be monitored determines the photodetector, which is often a silicon or indium gallium arsenide diode.

Optical power meters can measure wavelengths ranging from visible light to infrared, encompassing the most widely used wavelengths in fiber optic communication systems. Some sophisticated versions additionally have replaceable detectors, which allow users to adapt to varied wavelength ranges.

Optical Power Meter Applications: Installation and upkeep: Optical power meters are essential during the installation and maintenance of fiber optic networks for evaluating signal strength, assuring proper splicing and connectorization, and resolving network faults. They assist technicians in identifying power losses or abnormal power levels, allowing them to take remedial action as soon as possible. Optical light source is also of great use.

Network Monitoring: In live optical networks, continual monitoring of optical power levels is required to identify signal deterioration, fiber breakage, and other abnormalities that might influence overall network performance. Optical power meters monitor power in real-time, assisting network operators in identifying possible faults and taking proactive actions to ensure network integrity.

Choosing an Optical Power Meter: Several considerations should be addressed while choosing an optical power meter:

Power Measurement Range: Choose a power meter that can manage a wide range of power levels, accommodating both high and low power signals seen in various fiber optic systems.

Accuracy and Resolution: To guarantee exact measurements, look for a power meter with good accuracy and resolution. The resolution of an instrument defines the lowest observable power change, whereas accuracy represents its overall dependability.

Features and connectivity: Consider the power meter's connectivity choices, such as USB, Bluetooth, or Wi-Fi, which can help with data transmission and remote control. Data logging, wavelength identification, and auto-calibration are all features that can improve usability. You can buy fiber identifier online.

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[lightarts]

Rainbows in the Room, do you feel me?

Prismatic rays of color....https://youtu.be/W-to_JE94QY?si=HYhAW5i3bVhsufKZ

[candidoptronix]

Deviser's light source LS310A with VFL

Deviser's light source LS310A with #VFL are commonly used by #telecommunications service providers, network operators, and technicians to ensure the proper functioning and performance of optical communication networks.

Website- https://www.optronix.in

[muletia]

[tfp] starscream x human!reader

summary: starscream wakes you up to see the sunrise

cw: fluff, pinch of angst, starscream has feelings for you, silliness, bad writing, i may have butchered his character a bit but i want him to be happy for once

word count: 1365

Aggressive tapping on the window ripped you from a cozy sleep. You quickly propped yourself up on your arms, looking for the source of the sound. The warm blanket slipped off your shoulders, waking you even more. Your sleepy mind tried to shake off the fog with rapid blinking as you looked around, alarmed.

You tapped twice on the screen of your phone lying on the table next to your bed. Four o'clock. Good Lord. So much for sleeping in.

Who would even go through the trouble of reaching your house (crossing acres of untouched forest), tapping on the window hard enough to wake you up, and then disappearing without a trace? A thief? you thought. No, a thief would take extra care not to wake you. And would probably use the front door. With your still-clouded mind, you tried to remember who knew you lived here, but only two names came to mind: your mother and…

Red light pierced through the window, illuminating your bedroom.

Oh, right. He.

You slid out of bed and shuffled to the window. Even with limited light, you could make out the look of impatience on his elongated, metal face. You’d taken too long.

"Finally! Does it take humans this long to wake up?"

"Hi, Starscream," you greeted him. After a few months of acquaintance, you’d learned to ignore his jabs directed at you and your species. "May I ask what you need from me at four"—you emphasized the hour—"in the morning?"

You yawned, and he grimaced, his optics flicking away.

"I need you to finally step outside. Then you're coming with me."

"But it’s so early…"

"Will you be more encouraged if I punch a hole through your wall and take you by force?"

"Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't done that already."

"Don’t tempt me," he warned.

Your mind flashed back to the incident four months ago when he actually demolished half your wall because you apparently hadn’t come outside fast enough. Those were the days of testing his patience, which, as you quickly and painfully learned, was more fragile than porcelain.

"Get out. I'm not giving you a third warning."

You sighed because, unfortunately, he was right; you could soon end up in his servo, your house with yet another unwanted window. You put on your warmest coat, an old shearling from your mother, and left your cozy little home, making sure to lock the door behind you. It was still dark outside, but the first hints of dawn were breaking through the treetops. Sunrise was near.

"Finally! I can’t believe such a simple task took you this long."

"I’m sorry, alright. I just don't want to freeze to death."

One moment, you were standing quietly on the ground, bantering with your alien companion, and the next, he scooped you up in his claws and placed you in his servo. You held tight to his thumb, pressing against the only anchor point several meters above the ground. He was warm, which still amazed you. You nestled closer to his slender finger.

Starscream’s optics lingered on you for a moment, ensuring you were alright. You noticed.

"I’m fine," you assured him, smiling softly.

He looked away, embarrassed to be caught in such a state; you shouldn’t see him like this. You shouldn’t know that he cared, that he was trying to be gentler with your body; that his spark shone brighter when he was with you, that your companionship mattered to him.

The problem was, you did know. The humans he thought were primitives did have well-developed emotional intelligence, and you were no exception. It took you just a few weeks to see right through him. At first, he thought it was about finding his weakness, then stab him in the back, contact the right people or Autobots, and turn him in. Betray him. But each week, the betrayal he almost expected never came, and before he knew it, he started to trust you. And he hoped you trusted him, too—otherwise, you wouldn’t have stepped out of your house at such an early hour to meet him, right? He wanted to call it foolishness and naivety, but he knew you too well by now. You weren't either.

"I haven’t seen you in a while," you remarked after a moment of silence. "Are you okay?"

His wings fluttered happily. If you noticed, you chose not to comment on it, and he was forever grateful for that.

"Yes, I’m alright," he replied briefly.

"I’m glad."

His spark flickered with joy. It was nice to have someone who cared. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone of his kind had asked him something like that. Maybe no one ever had.

"Where are we going?" you asked. You didn’t expect a clear answer, but just listening to his voice gave you comfort. You missed this diva.

"Patience," he deflected. "I don’t want to spoil the surprise."

Oh. You beamed. With one sentence, he made you feel special, not to mention excited. Suddenly, the night’s chill stopped biting your cheeks, and the last traces of irritation at being woken up early faded away.

Starscream noticed the sudden shift in your body language, allowing himself to catch the mood. A dangerous thought popped into his processor—he’d like to see you smiling more, him being the reason for your smile. He wanted to make you happy, not occasionally, not out of whim or boredom; he wanted your smile to be genuine, brought on by his gestures or words. He held onto the hope that his surprise would have a similar effect.

As you climbed the forested hill, Starscream pondered when you stopped being just another human and became [Your Name]. Was it when you didn’t hesitate to express disapproval of Megatron, who had tormented him for most of his long life only to abandon him on an alien planet? Or maybe when you outright told him that you cared for him and that his opinion mattered to you when he wasn’t pointing a weapon at you?

You’d both fallen hard, but he was at the bottom.

"I think I know what this surprise is," you whispered as the forest thinned out, revealing a meadow dotted with rocks. "You remembered that I love sunrises."

"It’s hard to forget when someone keeps pestering you about it."

He was bluffing; you saw right through it. You’d only mentioned it once, a long time ago, but you let him win, not wanting to spoil the moment.

"Thank you," you whispered.

He muttered something under his breath, but his wings lifted proudly, betraying his true emotions.

Starscream stopped in front of a large rock jutting from the ground in the middle of the clearing. He placed his hand on the hard, dewy surface so you could step down and admire the view in front of you.

"Wow," you whispered.

You’d arrived just in time for the sunrise, which was slowly emerging from behind thick clouds, creating an orange gradient, fading into muted pinks and shades of gray. The panorama before you was raw and ethereal. Untouchable. It formed an image Starscream had reserved just for you. And that meant so, so much to you.

"I think I’m going to cry," you sniffled.

"What? Why?" he squawked, stunned.

Did you not like it? Humans only cried when they were sad, right? For Primus’s sake, he’d messed up again, as always. But before his worry could turn to anger, your response reassured him.

"I’m just… so happy. You have no idea how much. Thank you for bringing me here; I’ll never forget it."

There it was again. That pleasant churning in his spark, throwing him off his calculated balance. Would you be just as thrilled if he gave you a star from the sky?

"The pleasure’s all mine," he replied, now focusing his entire attention on you.

Impulsively, he reached out towards you. A sharp claw, designed to cause suffering, now gently brushed your back with the utmost care. Starscream soaked in your contentment like forbidden nectar, losing himself in the moment, wishing it would last forever.

[quixotical-lymbo]

Pairing: Orion Pax x gn!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: Why did you agree to join Orion on a day out which promised a 'fun' time?  Warnings/Tags: SPOILERS for the transformers one movie, cybertronian reader, running from the law, awkward first kiss, forced bonding/j, flirting, banter, humor, acquaintances to friends to…?, and fluff.  Word Count: 1300+ words 

"...find anything yet?" 

You jumped and juggled the recording in your servos. Gasping as it slipped between your digits a few times before you had a firm hold on it with both servos. You glared at the mech hanging over your shoulder, who rose his servos as he backed up from you. 

"No, nothing yet," You answered as you carefully placed the recording back in its original spot. Your optics ran over the many shelves and cases full of records, a huff left you as you turned to ask, "You?" 

"None," Orion took out a recording and discarded it carelessly. 

"...you know we should probably go," You stepped away from the shelf and approached Orion's back. You stopped just a few steps away from him, peering around his arm to see the mech filtering through the piles on the table. "Before we get caught again." 

"We won't get caught, stop being a wuss," Orion reassured with a laugh. 

"Hey! What are you two doing over there? Wait, is that Orion Pax again?!" 

The two of you shared horrified looks before scrambling from the records as the shouting officers demanded you two to stop. 

"I told you we would get caught!" You blew your top as you sprinted beside Orion. 

"And I'm telling you we won't-!" Optimus turned a corner and grunted when he slammed against a wall. 

"Dead end?" Optimus glanced up and saw the vents were boarded up. "Damn, they really prepared this time." 

"See? See? This is exactly why I should've listened to D to not come with you," You shook your digit at Orion before dropping your face into your palm. "We are going to get demoted for sure." 

"...halt!"

The approaching voices caused you to fret even more, but Orion was immune to the panic as he focused on finding a way out of this. He glanced around the corridor before his optics landed on a window. 

You felt something grab your wrist and before you could squeal you were pulled along. Your optics fell on the window that Orion was leading the both of you to and you began shaking your helm frantically. 

"No, no, no, don't you da-!" 

"Too late for that!" Orion pulled you close and shielded your frame with his as he rammed through the glass. 

A scream ripped from your intake as the two of you pummeled toward the ground, other cybertronians and the like zooming past the two of you.

Fortunately, the two of you landed on an overhang attached to a wall, the force ricocheted you both into breaking another window and falling inside of a building. Orion rolled with you in his arms for a few seconds until he rolled onto his back, then he unwrapped his arms from you. 

Out of breath and gasping for air, You and Orion gawked at each other for a moment before a giggle left your dermas. Orion couldn't hold back anymore and also broke out a fit of chuckles while you weakly dismounted from him and sat on the ground. Your optics observed the broken pieces of glass that led to the elevated window you two entered from.

It….was really high up, not even Orion seemed tall enough to reach it. 

 

"What did I say? We wouldn't get caught and here we are now! Not getting screamed at or forced to work another long hour of-" Orion faltered as did his optics observing your back. Him seeing your shoulders slump as well as the lack of your usual taunts spooked him. 

"...___? Is something wrong?" Orion got off of the ground and joined you by your side. He placed a servo on your shoulder and leaned forward to gauge your reaction. 

"Pax…" You began. "We're trapped." 

"What?" Orion's optics widened. 

"Look." 

So he did and he didn't like what he saw. 

Orion examined the building they were in and how dark it was. There wasn't any light sources other than the light streaming in from the window. Everything else was boarded up and the room appeared…abandoned to say the least. 

There were a few boxes and carts here and there, but other than those things it was fairly empty. 

"Scrap," Orion hissed. "Look, ___, I-" 

He turned to you and shut his trap up when you held up a servo. 

"It's fine, I expected things to go to scrap the moment I agreed to go on this 'outing,'" You curled your digits to make the 'quote-on-quote' gesture before dropping your arms. You turned on your heel strut and walked over to the nearest wall and slid down onto your aft. Orion watched you go, his face twisting with a flurry of emotions before he decided to sit beside you with his legs stretched out. 

"..." You couldn't find the strength to speak or entertain a conversation now of all times. You didn't hate Orion, or find him that annoying like every other bot did. In fact, you liked him, more than you were willing to admit to his face or D's (who had an inkling and brought it up one time–but you quickly shut that down before his smug ideas could land you in trouble). You curled your knees to your chassis and burrowed your helm in your arms.

"..."

"Soooo…you come here often?" 

You raised your helm enough to peek your optics out and give Orion a look.

He smiled back. 

"Yeah, I come here all the time when I want to avoid dumb idiots like a certain red and blue mech," You shot back as your tone came out harsher than intended. 

Orion halfheartedly giggled before shooting you with another ridiculous response, "I'm pretty positive that the red and blue mech doesn't mean any harm…and he's very very sorry." 

You couldn't hide the smile growing on your faceplate. Rolling your optics and making contact with the bigger mech's face, you played along with his game. "Oh, is that so? Because I don't think bringing me to a dark, scary place is an ideal first date I'd imagine us going on."

It was Orion's turn to look at you. Stunned as his cheeks flushed with a light hue. 

 "Well, I, uh…" 

You looked away and smirked at your win. Even if he laughed it off or rebuffed you, it was nice that you could make him shut up for once. 

"...I could take you somewhere nicer…for next time." 

You almost had a whiplash from how fast your helm turned on your shoulders. You studied Orion's face for any signs of this being some cruel joke, but nothing prepared you for the soft expression and heated gaze that allowed you to drink in all of its vulnerability. 

Oh….oh.

"I'd love that," You admitted, optics shying away from his intense gaze. You unfurled from the ball you curled in and placed your servos on the ground.  A relieved sigh rumbled from Orion's chassis as he turned his gaze to stare off into space, his servo slowly inching away from his side and toward yours. 

You flinched when something tapped your pinkie, you peeked down and saw Orion's digit nudging against yours. Your dermas curved as your faceplate was set ablaze, you hooked your digit around Orion's—who in turn interlocked your servos together. 

The two cybertronians glanced up from their joined limbs and stared into each other's optics. 

Time slowed as the two of you leaned forward, you could practically hear each other's sparks beating wildly as the gap sealed with a kiss.

His dermas gently pressed against  yours, his other servo cupped the back of your helm and your own rested on his chassis. The kiss was soft and a bit awkward as Orion's forehelm knocked into yours a few times. Nevertheless, it was a wonderful experience. 

As you tilted your helm to deepen the kiss-

A loud bang caused the two of you to separate and stare at the two guards who blocked the only exit of the place. 

"EW! Public displays of affection and breaking into an official building is not allowed!" 

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. star banner by @enchanthings !!

[rabotimagines]

"Pet names" pt4 GN BOT Reader + Soundwave (His cassettes), Starscream, Megatron

Summary: Reader has become partial to using human pet names for everyone.

Warnings: Megatron mentions of thinking of hitting Reader but it's light hearted all things considered.

G1 characters: Soundwave (and his cassettes), Starscream, Megatron

Genre/Theme: Platonic/light crush vibes

Notes: Con Bot Reader! Reader is higher ranking in the Decepticons and knows how to fight. Reader is said to be more loyal to the cause then Megatron necessarily. Reader is written as older bot in mind.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Soundwave Isn't expecting too much to go wrong today, since it was only an inventory day on the nemesis. You pass him the datapads he requested from you and he almost immediately drops them all when you speak. "Here ya go, Love. let me know if there's any issues with 'em" Soundwave freezes at the term but also has no feasible clue as to what his next course of action should be in this situation. But at his sudden silence you only meet his visor and a smile curls on your derma. And then your em field brushes warm across his side- But Soundwave doesn't say anything when you then turn on your pede and head to go back to your own tasks. And Soundwave is stuck standing with a stack of datapads in his servos for longer than he'd admit to, till he finally forces himself to place the pile on his desk. Then Ravage comes running back a few joors later asking to dock and he complies- and is promptly hit by the visual of you calling Skywarp "Babe" and he's suddenly now aware you've just seemingly begun to do this.

Soundwave admittedly does enjoy it. It was simple and there was no harm to your actions. A smile there, a name there, em field warm to the touch and filled with something almost... delicate. Soundwave did admittedly crave some form of domesticity, it was quite literally embedded in his coding with his frame type. The Decepticons didn't operate on such things so he's long learned to savor the small moments he'd occasionally share with his cassettes behind closed doors. But the affections you offered would make his frame want to instinctively lean forward for your em field to simply feather across his frame faster. So Soundwave allows himself the small enjoyment since there's no deceit in your field or frame when you do so. It's something that soothes the slight ache of wariness in his joints and fills the gaps in his plating.

Theres also the fact he's gotten a heaping amount of blackmail from recording the other Decepticons various reactions to your actions. Some were obviously violent with you promptly putting unruly soldiers back in their places before calling them sweet names again with a hint of bite when they were flat on their afts. He knows you know how to handle yourself and you were still a high ranking officer so the only one who could technically order you to stop was Megatron himself. But you didn't tend to report the insubordination itself. So Soundwave may as well keep the acting out recorded for when he needs to remind someone that Soundwave has his own ways of keeping the rabble in line. There was also the few recordings of some who didn't fight back and optics would brighten harsh enough their faceplates would either risk coloring or would color cobalt. Which were also quite a good source of blackmail for Soundwave.

-

For the cassettes it's only funny when it's someone else. Whether it's Soundwave or another one of them your attention is on. They're smiling and chuckling over whoever is on the receiving end. Laserbeak and Ravage are the fastest to not care about image since their already prone to physical attention due to both their alt modes being beasts. Getting a helm pat while you coo and call them "Gorgeous" has them both pushing back against you fast for more affection. The twins (and Buzzsaw) are hardafts about it, Scoffing and turning their olfactories up at you. Rumble actually does enjoy it a lot but you wouldn't be able to squeeze that outta him. No chance in pit! They all collectively enjoy watching Soundwave being on the receiving end more though. They can physically feel Soundwaves reactions to your affections and its hysterical every time Soundwave is shocked for half a nanoklick before bashfulness gets snuffed out of the bond link. (It's never fast enough that the cassettes can't feel it first though).

They're little slaggers and will not hesitate to push you to interact with Soundwave for something even if they do have the information just because they wanna see you inflicted on Soundwave. Soundwave catches on fast however and immediately begins doing the opposite to them. Turning you on his cassettes for something even when Soundwave already has the information, and watching them promptly fumble with the attention. You've unknowingly become a game to them all which is who can they get to interact with you and watch their optics brighten in real time. It's funnier if whichever con tries to fight you for it because the cassettes already know they're gonna just watch you knock somebot on their aft.

-

Starscream is ranting about Megatrons latest easily avoidable battle fumble that could have been avoided, if he allowed Starscream to kill Optimus last battle instead of stupidly let the mech get back up again. It was time for a high command meeting and it's you and him waiting on Soundwave and Megatron. Starscream knew you entertained his ideas and Starscream knew sparkdamn well your loyalties lied more with the cause then Megatron. So he wastes no chance to try and persuade you to join his side over Megatrons whenever he can. You just leaned your faceplate against your own servo which was propped up on the meeting table. "Darling, you know perfectly well how he is with Prime. He's possessive, and knows he'll only get to kill him once. Megatron wants to savor the death of Optimus Prime." You stated as if it were so matter of factually and not simply that your bumbling leader did whatever he pleased regardless of if it was detrimental to the Decepticon cause.

He thinks on what you'd said longer and scoffs, his wings flicking at the battle memory. Then his optics widen a touch when he thinks you'd just called him "Darling"? No No you definitely had just started that statement off by calling Starscream darling. Starscreams gaze snaps back to you with questions but your expression betrayed nothing at all, expression and em field completely neutral. Had you- Not realized you'd done that? You met Starscreams gaze and a smirk curled on your derma. "What's wrong, love?" Your em field lightly brushing against his side has Starscreams expression furrowing before he can even attempt to hide his own befuddlement. Then Megatron walked into the room with Soundwave and both your helms snapped to them instead. Starscream doesn't know what the pit you were playing at then but then sees you say something flirtatious with Skywarp of all bots- then Soundwave, and then hes demanding to know if you've had your personality module shorted when they weren't looking. But you just smirked at him in the infuriating way you did and say "What? I just think the Cons could use a little TLC." Starscream cannot hide his sneer when you explain what "TLC" means. You were Decpticon warriors! Not blasted organics in a cheap shoddy excuse for a romantic film. Skywarp actually growled at him when Starscream told him to act like his sparkdamned position, and not hike his wings so high in the air when you interacted with him. Growled at him! Starscream was going to shoot that idiot the next chance he got.

Starscream hates your little excuse of a habit and he's starting to hate interacting with you. Every meeting is an infuriating term, or smile, or all spark forbid you try and fan your em field out against him again- he might just threaten to end you there and then! Starscream was a war frame! Not just any war frame but the second in command in the Decepticons! Your position aside, you still were not above Starscream in rank! The only time he actually lets you is on accident- when his guard drops. Starscream returned from a mission with an earth item they needed for their plans and had to outgun and quickly outrun the Autobots by himself. And what does he get when he returns? Megatrons infuriating unappreciative aft telling him he should've been faster. Starscream is seething off to the side when a servo grasps his arm and Starscream whips his helm around ready to fight, obviously, and its you. "Great job out there, Darling." You say with a smile and your em field fully presses against Starscream and it is warm. Your thumb rubs a slow press against were you're holding his arm and then you simply let go and leave.

Starscream would have shot you if his embarrassment caught up to him before you'd left. But instead he's stuck standing there like a fool alone with his wings hiked high in the air without his own input. His own optics burning. Starscreams engine growled under his own vents and he stomped off to go get ready for the impending battle. He was going to slag you for this foolery one day! (Starscream does not even entertain to fleeting thought to find you to next time he completes a task. The thoughts dead and smelted as soon as it has the audacity to form.)

-

Megatron knows were your loyalties lie but you were competent and a good solider so he has no qualms with them. After all you'd simply stated you'd tell him yourself if you thought you had to kill him for the sake of the Decepticon cause. Megatron laughed knowing you were completely and utterly serious about that. He simply offered the same sentimentality back to you. He'd known you for a very very long time so the clarity of were you both stood on any situation was typically warranted. That said after vorns of knowing you he's still not ready when your giving him your verbal report and you hold out the datapad with the written report still on the screen for him to take. "All that said not too much to regard about, Sweetspark. Thankfully the mission went off without much of a hitch." Megatron stops were he is and at that point he's in the middle of taking the datapad, servo still holding onto the electronic device and held in front of himself. And Megatron stares back at you letting what you'd just said settle in the silence. You don't open your mouth again to explain yourself so Megatron opens his.

"Are you- overcharged you fool? What... buffoonery are you trying to accomplish here?" And Megatron looks at your optics to genuinely check if they are any brighter as a sign of overcharge but their the same brightness they always typically are. He watches a smirk curl on your derma and feels amusement fan in your em field- He knows because Megatron can blatantly feel it brushing against his chassis. It's not strictly unpleasant- but it is foreign enough he has to suppress the instinctive urge to pull back.

"Ah, Sorry Sir," Your em field flexes warmer when the word leaves your mouth, "Learned that praise is apparently shown to encourage morale and good behavior. It's been working with the other cons so far. Even got some of the usual misbehaving rabble to start acting more... proper." You were doing this with the soldiers.

"Has it now?" You only nodded unperturbed still by the situation. You were competent and if the unruly soldiers listened when you had no regard for indulging the brutes in such a thing he couldn't exactly argue against it. However- "Hm, Do not use such terms when we're not alone. It would be ill advised for the others to hear me referred to by such things." Your smirk widens and further amusement curls against Megatrons frame and he as to resist to urge to try and strike you for it. Knowing fully well you'd more than likely dodge and would rightfully try and strike him one back. (Before likely booking it out of his throne room before Megatron could stand properly.) Megatron enjoys it more than he would ever admit, even to you. Your smile, Your unrestrained em field, and he even enjoys the rather confounded little names you'd use whenever you were alone with one another. It didn't make much logical sense considering how ridiculous the entire affair was but Megatron wanted you to continue doing it. And Megatron was never restrained with his own desires.

He does however restrain himself when he suddenly gets the baffling urge to reach a servo out and brush his knuckles against your faceplate one night. Something so ridiculously... chummy was not something Megatron would stoop low enough to perform. So he instead lets his plating lax a touch more than usual when your em field brushes against his own frame. You were simply putting work into the sanctity of the Deception cause. Nothing more, nothing less...

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Namib Sand Geckos: these nocturnal geckos have biofluorescent markings that emit a bright, neon-green glow when exposed to the moonlight

This species (Pachydactylus rangei) is found only in the Namib Desert, which stretches across Namibia, Angola, and South Africa; the geckos typically inhabit the arid, coastal region known as the Skeleton Coast.

In order to escape from the blistering heat of the desert, they use their webbed feet to burrow down into the sand during the day, and then emerge only at night, when the temperature has finally dropped. The webbing on their feet also enables them to run more easily across the dunes.

Namib sand geckos are covered in translucent scales, but they also have a strangely colorful appearance, as the colors/shades of their circulatory system, spinal column, internal organs, and optical membranes remain partially visible through the skin, producing various shades of pink, dark blue, purple, magenta, orange, and yellow.

They also have several distinctive markings running along their lower flank and encircling their eyes; these markings are known to fluoresce when exposed to UV light (including moonlight), emitting a bright, neon-green glow.

Some researchers have theorized that the biofluorescent markings may act as a signal to other geckos, allowing them to locate one another in the vast, desolate expanse of the desert, as this paper explains:

The fluorescent areas of P. rangei are concentrated around the eyes and along the lower flanks. This positioning is practically invisible to predators with a higher perspective (e.g. birds and jackals), but highly conspicuous from a gecko’s perspective. As P. rangei is sociable but generally solitary, and occurs at low population densities, such a signal might serve to locate conspecifics over greater distances ...

Encounters in P. rangei might serve purposes beyond mating opportunities: as the Namib desert has extremely low precipitation, fog is a key water source for its flora and fauna. Fog condenses on the bodies of the geckos, and they lick it from their faces. In husbandry, we have observed individuals licking water from conspecifics, taking advantage of a much greater available surface area.

Additionally, after short periods of isolation, the geckos run to meet each other. The combination of vital hydration with socialisation might reinforce signals that enable such meetings, and the cost of visibility to predators with higher vantage points, might constrain the signals to regions best visible from eye-level and below.

The Namib sand gecko is the only terrestrial vertebrate that is known to use an iridophore-based form of biofluorescence (you can find a more detailed explanation of that mechanism in the article mentioned above). The fluorescent dermal markings are also unique to this species.

Sources & More Info:

Scientific Reports: Neon-green fluorescence in the desert gecko Pachydactylus rangei caused by iridophores

Animal Diversity Web: Pachydactylus rangei

Dr. Mark D. Scherz's Blog: A Neon-Green Glowing Gecko!

Australian Geographic: Skeleton Coast - Namibia's strange desert dwellers

[ripley-owo]

The Beautiful Discs Statistics are HERE

These discs are BEAUTIFUL these discs are BEAUITFUL these discs are BEAUTIFUL.

Longest Games:

Planet 51; The Game: 298 minutes

Jumper: 162 minutes

Godfather II: 128 minutes

Hulk: 104 minutes

Batman Begins: 100 minutes

Shortest Games:

James Cameron's Dark Angel: 0 minutes

Thor; God of Thunder: 7 minutes

Turbo SUper Stunt Squad: 10 minutes

Brink: 11 miutes

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: 12 minutes

'''Beauty''' is commonly described as a feature of objects that makes them [[pleasure|pleasurable]] to perceive. Such objects include landscapes, sunsets, humans and works of art. Beauty, art and taste are the main subjects of [[aesthetics]], one of the fields of study within [[philosophy]]. As a positive aesthetic value, it is contrasted with [[Unattractiveness|ugliness]] as its negative counterpart.

These discs are BEAUTIFUL

An optical disc is a flat, usually[note 1] disc-shaped object that stores information in the form of physical variations on its surface that can be read with the aid of a beam of light. Optical discs can be reflective, where the light source and detector are on the same side of the disc, or transmissive, where light shines through the disc to be detected on the other side.

These discs are BEAUTIFUL

These discs are BEAUTIFUL

[imagine-darksiders]

Angel of Highway 49.

Ch. 6 - Collateral.

Optimus & Reader. Bulkhead x Reader. Starscream x causing mayhem.

Summary: 'For the first time, your eyes meet his optics, and there’s not an ounce of recognition flickering in their glossy depths as they stare up at him in unmitigated terror.

No… not terror…. Horror.

You’re horrified by his presence, his appearance, his incomprehensible existence.'

-------------------------

On paper, the mission brief had seemed quite straightforward.

Investigate the substantial Energon signature that Ratchet's scans had turned up, get in, gather as much as they could carry, and get out again.

Optimus knew the likelihood of beating the Decepticons to the punch was minimal, at best. No doubt the only reason Ratchet's scanners had picked up anything was because raw Energon had been exposed where it wasn't before, say, by a mining operation that drilled straight into a fresh deposit laying deep beneath the Earth's crust.

The coordinates had been of immediate concern to the Prime, and as soon as the team was debriefed, he and Bulkhead drove straight out to the reference point with their pedals almost to the floor, though the latter couldn't fathom his Leader's sudden sense of urgency, and when prodded, Optimus only told him that the location was 'concerningly close to a human settlement.'

It was a mine, long-abandoned, sunk beneath the cliffs near a large agricultural unit.

They were to evaluate the subterranean passages, determine the level of Decepticon activity, preferably without engaging, and look for any opportunity to seize Energon from the enemy forces. Underhanded, perhaps, but if it secures his Autobots a few more months of precious fuel, Optimus isn't above resorting to clandestine tactics.

Of course, as it's been said before, even the best laid plans often go awry...

----------

The sturdy cables of Optimus’s neck buck and strain against their tubing as he wrenches his helm towards the Southern tunnel, his optical apertures spinning wide, blazing with a fierce, cyan light.

Hidden parallel to his leader, ducked down behind a stack of energon crates on the other side of the cavern, Bulkhead does the same, his colossal chin piece falling open with a dull ‘thunk,’ and his entire frame turning rigid with alarm.

Unfortunately for them both, so too do the frames of all four Vehicon Miners.

One by one, each of the energon drills wind down to sputtering halts as their wielders disengage from the deposits in the cave walls, pausing to turn their inexpressive masks towards the disruption.

And what a disruption it is.

A haunting, spinal-strut-chilling shriek is ringing out through the mine like an air-raid siren, more piercing than the drills and far shriller than the clanking of heavy machinery. The sound goes on and on, even when the source runs out of steam, and only the echo of a scream passes through the labyrinthian tunnels until that too falls silent, leaving every Cybertronian who heard it caught in a moment of temporary bewilderment.

Optimus is the first to recover.

Denta grit tightly behind his mask, he draws his slate-dark brow plates together and begins gauging the distance between his hiding spot and the tunnel.

Speed will be essential here… Because it’s to his utmost distress that he’s matched the vocal patterns of the distant scream to that of a human.

In the next instant, his private com-link scratches to life, and Bulkhead’s hushed, bassy voice is whispering into the Prime’s audials.

“That wasn’t Miko, Boss,” he defends his charge without hesitation.

Admirable, of course. But in this instance, unnecessary.

Optimus is well aware that the cadence of the scream doesn’t belong to any one of their charges. He has them logged, after all – though he often wishes he didn’t, if only because those audio logs serve as constant reminders that there have been times where the three younglings – whilst under his care- were in states of distress severe enough to cry out at all.

That aside however, Optimus is also confident that right now, the children are safe and sound back at the Autobot base with Ratchet, doubtless waiting anxiously for Arcee and Bumblebee to return from a routine scouting mission around Jasper’s outskirts.

But that begs the question; why would a human be down here in a defunct mine during the middle of the night?

It’s a question he doesn’t give much processing power to, not when there is a far more urgent matter at hand that needs addressing.

Loathe to wait even another second for something bad to happen to the unfortunate, wayward human, the Prime heaves himself out of his crouch and vaults gracefully over the energon stacks he’d been using as cover, barking a single, concise order to his comrade-in-arms.

“Engage!”

He’s barely cleared cover when he hears Bulkhead’s response.

“So much for the element of surprise!”

A necessary sacrifice.

If there’s a human down here in danger, they no longer have the luxury of scoping out the mine’s multiple chambers and trying to take things slow.

No matter.

What matters is getting to them before whatever – or whoever - frightened them can do any harm.

Optimus’s explosive arrival sends the Vehicons scrambling about to face him, and no less than two of the four manage to drop their handheld drills in shock.

“Prime’s here!?” one bellows, tripping over his own pedes in his haste to retreat towards the far wall.

“And he brought company!” his fellow growls.

No sooner has he spoken than an eruption of noise rocks the cavern as Bulkhead comes careening around the side of his hiding spot with all the unstoppable brutality of a runaway freight train.

“Head’s up!” he bellows, raising his hefty arm high into the air and charging for the first, unfortunate Miner.

Only one seems to have recovered in time to aim his plasma cannon at Optimus, who ducks smoothly beneath the first shot and skids along the ground on his knees for several metres, drawing up close enough to the Con to negate any space between them.

Before a second round can even charge in its chamber, one of the Prime’s enormous metal servos curls into a devastating fist, and with the struts of his forearm tensed and locked in preparation, he launches himself off his knees and –

‘CRUNCH!’

The knuckles of his servo connect with the Vehicon’s chin-guard with terrifying precision.

An uppercut, the power behind which is enough to send the dark, purple visor snapping backwards with an audible crack. Its wearer is quick to follow suit, crumpling over onto his back before Optimus’s fist has even finished its upswing.

One down…

Bulkhead has also reached his own Con, and Optimus is glad to see that he seems to have taken the Prime’s briefing to spark.

Incapacitate only, where possible.

These are miners, not warriors.

The wrecking ball perched on the end of Bulkhead’s arm is already swinging by the time the Con has his own weapon readied, and it’s promptly knocked aside by the Wrecker’s weaponised name-sake, who is quick to follow up with a single punch to the Vehicon’s helm.

One, hard wallop, and he’s down like a sack of bricks.

Two down, two to go…

The remaining pair, those clumsy enough to have dropped their drills, at least seem wise enough to recognise when they’re outmatched.

Bulkhead wheels about, shaking scraps of the miner’s visor from his fist as he glowers at the retreating taillights of two, purple vehicles fleeing as fast as their tyres can carry them down one of the adjoining tunnels.

“Aw, where’re you going!?” he taunts them as they vanish around a corner like jettisoned scrap, “I didn’t even break a sweat!”

Yet another turn of phrase he’s picked up from Miko, Optimus notes, thankfully one of her more palatable expressions. Primus knows that girl could be an honorary Wrecker through vocabulary alone…

“Leave them!” the Prime commands urgently, breaking into a loping run for the opposite passage and shifting the plates on his dominant arm to reveal his colossal, devastating barrage cannon, hoping against hope that it won’t be seeing any action beyond warding off a potential threat.

Setting off a detonative blast in this place could cause the whole subterranean structure to collapse in on itself, another reason he’d stressed the importance of melee before this mission.

Clunking footsteps soon fall into pace behind his own, rattling the shards of energon still wedged into the cave walls.

There’s little point in maintaining stealth now, not with time swiftly trickling away beneath their pedes and the deafening silence the drills have left behind.

Whoever remains in this cavern is bound to know of their presence by now.

There’s a sudden blip on his radar - an energon signature far more significant than the deposits in the walls. It’s large, and active, and at this distance, uncloaked.

With coolant pumping fervidly through his pipes, Optimus kicks himself into gear and swings around the curve of the tunnel, bringing into view a sight so gruesome, it nearly freezes his spark inside its chamber.

A surge of alarm - his very own - hits the airwaves before he can suppress it, and although he reels it back in microseconds, he knows Bulkhead has already felt it, even from several paces behind him. An answering jolt of panic crashes into Optimus’s field as the Wrecker stumbles, his armour flaring nervously.

Because if the Prime is worried, then…

Optimus doesn’t have time to reassure his teammate.

Starscream is looming up ahead, silhouetted at the tunnel’s end by an unearthly blue light.

Megatron’s second in command cuts an intimidating figure. A frame as sharp as his tongue is angled towards the oncoming Autobots, but his attention – and more horrifyingly – his missile arm is aimed near the ground at a comparatively small rock, behind which Optimus has already locked onto four human signatures.

Another surge, this time of unshackled indignation rattles the plating across his shoulders and sends his protective protocols careening into furious overdrive.

Taking point, the Prime charges from the tunnel and into the cavern first, cannon raised and whirring as he digs in his heels and slides to a halt, drawing up his colossal frame to stand tall beneath the rock ceiling, his optics narrowed to thin slits.

“Starscream,” he thunders, authoritative and unyielding. His voice booms around the cavern, drawing another short scream from one of the humans below, yet he doesn’t dare take his optics off the threat to assess their condition, not while Starscream still has his weapon aimed unwaveringly at them.

It seems his arrival was anticipated after all.

The Decepticon doesn’t balk at their presence, doesn’t raise a weapon to defend himself… Gradually, wholly aware that he has the advantage here, Starscream raises his helm and tips his chin back to flash the Prime a haughty smirk.

“Ah, ah, ah~” he singsongs airily, just as Bulkhead lumbers to a halt at Optimus’s side, “That’s close enough, Autobot scum.”

Letting out a choked sound of rage, the wrecker lifts an arm, and his ion blaster whirls to life, though Starscream is quick to nod at the rock near his pedes and add, “Surely you wouldn’t risk any collateral damage now, would you?”

The Prime’s optics flare brightly.

Collateral… A Decepticon’s preferred synonym for the children under the Autobots’ care.

As Starscream speaks, he bobs his missile tauntingly up and down, never letting it stray from the humans locked in his crosshairs.

Behind the battle mask, Optimus peels back his dermas by a fraction of an inch – the only show of frustration he allows himself.

He’s almost relieved that Bulkhead is, by contrast, able to express himself so freely.

A low, thrumming growl shakes its way out from between the Wrecker’s clenched dentas. “Bullying humans now, Screamer?” he fumes, chomping at the proverbial bit but held in check by the seeker’s threat, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size for a change? Or are you afraid you might lose?”

Starscream’s smirk twists down at the corners into a sneer, yet before he can offer some cutting retort, another voice pipes up from below, shattering his concentration.

“Bulk!?”

Two of the three Cybertronians present feel their sparks drop heavily into their tanks.

Bulkhead’s jaw hits his sternum with a ‘clunk!’ whilst Optimus’s only outward display of shock is the slight jump of his optical ridges.

“Miko!?” the former exclaims in a voice so shrill that it might have been comical in any other situation.

At last, unable to resist tearing their optics from the Con, both Optimus and Bulkhead shoot twin glances down over the top of the rock.

The Prime only needs a nanosecond to process the faces of each human below him.

And it’s just as he’d feared.

There’s Jack, a tired face gone slack with relief at seeing Optimus tower above him. And Rafael, with his youthful features pulled taut in fright, yet those wide, brown eyes are still so full of trust as they silently implore the Prime for help. Miko in the meantime is gazing adoringly up at her guardian with a gleeful smile stretching the edges of her mouth.

But it’s the fourth human that Optimus finds his optics drawn to and struck by, locking onto a face not quite as familiar as the children’s but known and inexplicably fond to him all the same.

“Y/n?” he murmurs far too softly to be heard over Bulkhead’s sputtered sounds of dismay and increasing panic.

His last parting from you was... regrettable, and still weighs heavily on his spark and processor when he finds himself alone with his thoughts.

For the first time, your eyes meet his optics, and there’s not an ounce of recognition flickering in their glossy depths as they stare up at him in unmitigated terror.

No… not terror…. Horror.

You’re horrified by his presence, his appearance, his incomprehensible existence.

In your eyes, he and Bulkhead are no different from Starscream – the true and only threat. In your eyes, what is he? Not a protector, but an aggressor. An unknown you have no hope of overcoming.

It doesn’t escape his notice; the stance you’ve taken in front of the children. With your back to them, arms flung out wide, you’re a trembling bulwark of fear and confusion and bravery, and the only thing standing between them and the Decepticon’s missile.

An unanticipated curl of pride warms the spark in his chamber, though it immediately bucks when his optics register the discolouration on your back. From his elevated angle, he has a clear and uninterrupted view of your shoulder blades… and the distressing gradient of a deep purple shadow sweeping across them, hemmed in by a frame of diffusing yellow.

It’s a bruise - he distantly recalls the term – and it’s swallowing up a vast swathe of your fragile skin, disappearing beneath your shirt. He’s seen bruises on humans before, small ones on the children’s knees and elbows after a tumble, or underneath Agent Fowler’s eyes after one too many sleepless nights. And while those instances are disquieting enough to witness, none have quite matched the extent of this one.

He knew you’d been hurt but this looks…

The lights in his optics flicker.

… He should have put his pede down… He should have just driven you straight to the medical clinic in Jasper regardless of your protests - no ‘ifs,’ ‘ands’ or ‘buts.’

Of all the humans who could have ended up down here, it would be the one who implied quite categorically that they never wanted anything to do with him again. He supposes there’s something divinely poetic about that. Divinely comedic too. Perhaps right now, Primus is looking down on his creation with a knowing smile.

Optimus, however, finds himself wishing that you were anywhere else at all, that fate had not led you down here. That it hadn’t led any of you down here, where your life and that of the children’s hang treacherously in the balance.

The nanosecond ends when you blink – and Optimus’s intake stalls to see a shimmering tear break free of your lash line and trickle down your cheek.

It strikes him that not only do you believe you’re supposed to protect Jack, Miko and Rafael from Starscream, but now that the Prime has unwittingly added himself and Bulkhead into the mix, you think you have two more perils to contend with.

Optimus flicks his optics up to the Decepticon once more as a dozen differing strategies spin around inside his processor. He’s getting you out of here. You and the children. ‘Whatever happens,’ he sends a silent promise down to the humans under his charge, his solicitous field spilling all the words he can’t verbalise, ‘I will keep you safe.’

Bulkhead feels it – Optimus’s EM field is a powerful thing, like everything else about the Prime. And right now, the noble intent of his leader hits the wrecker’s chassis like there’s real force behind it, tangible and physical.

Starscream feels it as well, though he isn’t bolstered by it like Bulkhead is. In fact, judging from the sudden wipe of his smug expression, the Seeker may have just come to the realisation that he’s currently threatening the very young, very vulnerable wards of a Prime and his powerhouse of a soldier.

Optimus wonders, between flitting through tactics, what you might think of him if you could feel it too.

-----

This has got to be one of – if not the - most vivid and dramatic nightmares you’ve ever had.

Either that, or…. or there’s a buildup of… of gasses in this mine or something, causing you to hallucinate. Hell, maybe that’s why this place was abandoned to begin with. If those old miners found coal seams or shale deposits down here, you could be standing in a pit filled with methane right now. And those beams and timber that were rotting away over your head as you made your way down…? How long have they been decomposing? Long enough for the carbon dioxide to seep out and gather at the bottom of the mine, you’ll bet!

That has to be it.

Gasses. Hallucinations. A nightmare.

Because you couldn’t possibly consider the third option, could you? That this might actually be happening. That there really are three unfathomably colossal titans surrounding you and the kids on all sides.

It certainly feels real enough. The sweat slicking your palms and hairline, the blood roaring in your ears, and the heart in your chest trying to make a jailbreak are all about as vivid as it gets.

Rationale is telling you that this isn’t happening. Your body is telling you otherwise. And it’s very hard to try and listen to both at the same time.

When the tallest of them – the one that had shouted something in a voice that sent a ping straight to your brain – lowers its ‘eyes’ to lock you in its sights, you freeze in place, helpless as a butterfly pinned to a corkboard.

Awful, cerulean light cuts like frostbite through the dimness of the mine and sends a chill sweeping up the length of your spine.

You’re stuck fast by its stare, the light cold and calculating as it burns down at you from an otherwise expressionless face.

Your own eyes sting with the effort of keeping them open, too afraid to blink, too afraid to take your gaze away lest it decide to strike the moment it thinks you aren’t looking, like a predator, a hungry wolf with designs on the back of your neck.

It’s hard to believe that the giant is the first to look away, pulling those twin beams of light from your face and turning them onto the comparatively smaller monster, the one with a blood-red stare.

Battling down the temptation to collapse onto your knees, you instead suck in a deep, noisy breath through your nostrils and clamp your lips firmly together as your gaze flits across to the third and final titan, shorter yet somehow so much larger than the others.

It’s as broad as a barn. Broader, perhaps. Military-green from head to toe, and it too sports a gaze that’s just as blue as the strange quartz that surrounds you. It cocks its colossal head at you, what passes for a head on that behemoth anyway, and the lights set in its face blink off, then on again. Once, twice… until something in your brain clicks into place.

It’s blinking.

You’d almost begun to entertain the notion that you’ve unwittingly stumbled upon some kind of Government-built superweapon, and that Terry might not be the crazy bastard you thought he was. But when it blinks at you, when it tips its head to the side as if it’s curious… in some uncanny way, you recognise it for what it is.

That’s something humans do.

That’s something living things do.

… What the Hell have you found down here?

Or perhaps the better question is, what the Hell has just found you?

“I see you’ve added another little pet to your menagerie,” the first robot suddenly drawls, breaking the silent stalemate that’s been brewing between you all for the past few seconds and sending your attention snapping back towards its slender face, chest rising and falling as you remind yourself to keep breathing, “I’m beginning to think you don’t care much for humans at all, if this is where you bring them to play.”

‘Humans?’

Your racing mind latches onto the word and sticks fast.

Humans… It called you humans. Implying that the speaker isn’t one…

The revelation doesn’t help you much, you’re still very much in trouble here, regardless of whether there’s another person operating these things or if they’re powered by something else entirely.

The longer you stand there without a shift or a waver in the makeup of the figure ahead of you, the less confident you are in your hallucination theory.

“Who’re you calling pets!?” Miko’s voice abruptly blasts past your ear, reminding you quite starkly of the three children pressed to your back, “If anyone’s the pet, it’s you! Megatron’s little groupie!”

You don’t have a chance to wonder what in the world she’s talking about.

The robot’s red glare snaps to her and zeroes in with murderous intent, its strange, malleable lip curling with hostility. Somewhere below your elbow, you hear Raf hiss “Miko!”

Just like that, you realise with a start that it doesn’t matter if you’re hallucinating or not.

If you are, and the children are too, it just means that you have to get them into fresh air as soon as possible. And if you’re not…

If this is real, if this is happening to you, then there truly are lives on the line, more than just your own.

And if this turns out to all be some incredibly vivid nightmare, well… you can nervously laugh about it once you’re awake. But for now…

“You dare address your betters, pest!?” the robot seethes, tilting its arm by a fraction, just enough to indicate that it’s aiming its missile point-blank at the girl. Behind you, there’s a mechanical whir, like a machine is being charged up.

Your stomach lurches. Somebody needs to do something….

….

………. Shit. Fine.

“Don’t!” you blurt out before you can put too much thought into your actions, taking a fumbling step forward and drawing the silver juggernaut’s furious glare, “Don’t point that at her! She’s just a kid!”

There are several intakes of breath from behind you, and one from somewhere high above your head, but your attention remains fixed steadfastly on the red-eyed robot, goosebumps springing up along your arms when it lets out a deriding chuckle and flashes you a glimpse of stark-white metal sitting just beyond its ‘lips,’ like a set of teeth.

“Oh? What have we here? Trying to play the hero,” it sneers the word with about as much sincerity as it might afford a dead fly, scoffing somehow through its gap for a mouth, “Pathetic. Ah-! Not so fast, Prime!” Quick as a flash, the robot lifts it gaze to the ones behind you, sharp red lights flashing dangerously, “Unless you want to be picking up the pieces of your little friend here for the next deca-cycle.”

You haven’t forgotten about the threats behind you, snatching a glance over your shoulder to see if the other robots are keeping their distance. To your horror, the green one is still subjecting you to its stare, blue lights brighter than ever as it observes you. The slab of grey metal stretching like a chin-guard across its face has fallen slightly to hang open, revealing a sliver of darkness behind it – its own mouth, you realise with a shudder.

Even more perturbingly, the tallest of the trio has definitely taken a step closer. You can see the indentation in the dust where its foot had rested only seconds ago, several metres back.

Your tongue sits like a lead weight in your mouth, dry as a bone.

At the silver robot’s words, it stills entirely, one of its gargantuan hands held up placatingly. Its compliance demonstrates that there must be some sort of hierarchy here. Despite the apparent size advantage, the taller robot had deferred to the one with red eyes.

That at least clues you in on which danger to prioritise, so you turn back to the first giant, your own hands unconsciously mirroring the same, appeasing gesture.

It’s an absolutely uncontested fact that you’re outmatched in size, numbers, speed, strength, and more than likely intelligence too.

So, what do you have in your arsenal?

What could you possibly have?

Think!

The toe of your boot slides forwards an inch, just an inch, just enough to bump gently into an obstruction that rolls slightly under the force.

A rapid glance down reveals the object; the torch you’d dropped earlier, sitting innocuously by your boot, dim and harmless…

… In a split second, you make a decision.

It could very well prove to be your last decision, but it’s better than staying paralyzed by indecision and fear. One option guarantees that you won’t be leaving here alive. The other… might at least buy you some time…

In one, darting motion, you dip down and swipe the torch off the ground, straightening back up just as hastily and holding it out in front of you with both hands, aiming the glass face up towards the scarlet ‘eyes’ leering down from above you.

“Back off!” is all you can think to yelp, arms and voice quaking, “O-or I’ll shoot!”

....

The silence that falls over the cavern couldn’t be any heavier.

It makes the rattling plastic of the torch that much louder in your ringing ears.

For several heartbeats, nobody moves, not the kids, not the robots, only you with your knocking knees and trembling, outstretched arms.

Then suddenly, sound floods back into the chamber, all in the form of a scratching, obnoxious cackle.

The silver robot peels the plating around its lips back and laughs at you, the missile jerking wildly with the effort to stay trained on you despite the wielder’s convulsing frame.

“Oh~! Oh, that is rich!” it chortles, smirking maniacally down at you from twenty-something feet, “You’ll shoot, will you? You’ll shoot me with that little toy of yours?” You can see the guard dropping, there’s more movement behind you. You have to act now, before the other two monstrosities get the chance to intervene.

“This toy-!” you blunder, cutting shakily through the mocking laughter, “I-is an… um, a military… tactical… laser! It’ll blind you from fifty feet!” You have no idea if robots can be blinded. You have no idea why you’re bluffing like a gambler losing at poker. The torch, if anything, is about as bog-standard as it could possibly get. You know that.

But you’re hoping the robot doesn’t.

Apparently though, it does, judging by the fresh peal of laughter tumbling out of it and ricocheting around the mine chamber.

There’s a nervous hum of uncertainty from one of the kids - Jack, if you had to guess.

“Do you really think, human, that I don’t know a bluff when I hear one?” it remarks snidely, sweeping a slender claw beneath one of the red lights in a mocking rendition of someone wiping away a tear.

“You… you don’t believe me?!” you shout up at it, wedging your thumb underneath the switch and bracing every muscle in your body, praying that this works.

Splaying its free hand across what serves as a chest, it retorts, “Do you take me for a fool? Of course I don’t believe you!”

“Good!” you exclaim as a fresh cascade of adrenaline surges through your blood, shoulders aching with the effort of keeping them aimed up at the robot’s face which contorts from a smirk to a frown at your unexpected turnaround. “Then you won’t try to defend yourself when I do this-!”

On the final word, your thumb jams the switch into position, and a stalwart beam of light flies straight and true, crashing into the robot’s pale face and dousing those ominous red lights faster than you can blink.

The effect is as immediate as it is melodramatic.

The relatively quiet air of the cavern is suddenly ripped asunder by the robot’s jarring and unexpected screech of alarm. Reeling backwards, it wrenches its gangly arms up and flings them over its face, shielding itself from the little beam of your torch.

“MY OPTICS!”

You don’t stick around to see what happens next, all too aware that the same bluff never works twice.

The very instant that missile’s trajectory changes, you’re moving, aggressively stamping down on the instinct screaming at you to haul yourself to the far passage as fast as your legs can carry you.

There are three people who need to reach it first.

The front of Jack’s shirt is the first thing your fingers latch onto when you spin around and make a wild grab for one of the kids. His eyes are on stalks, bugging out of their sockets when you unceremoniously hurl him out in front of you and shove his back for good measure, shrieking at the top of your lungs, “RUN!”

He’s still getting his feet under him properly by the time you’ve snatched up Rafael’s wrist in one hand and Miko’s in the other, all the while chaos erupts around you when several-hundred tonnes of metal begins to move.

You almost wrench the poor kids out of their shoes as you take off, haring at breakneck speed towards the tunnel you’d come down like a fire has been lit under your heels.

----

Optimus has to admit, it isn’t very often that he can be surprised anymore, though he has noticed that the instances seem to be occurring with more and more frequency of late. That they happen to correlate with his arrival upon Earth is hardly coincidental, he’s sure.

Humans, as it stands, are just about the most pleasant surprise he’s come across in his extensive travels throughout the Galaxy, and there’s always something so refreshing about their ability to deliver.

Refreshing, yes. But somehow at the same time, spark-wrenchingly, tank-churningly alarming.

Even the Prime couldn’t predict that you’d resort to bluffing with a Decepticon, let alone that the bluff had actually worked, however briefly.

The only blessing he can latch onto is ‘thank Primus Starscream has never taken an interest in human electrical devices.’

Optimus had been waiting on the tips of his pedes for the opportunity to put himself between you and the Seeker, all he needed was an opening where he could be sure that missile wouldn’t be going off anywhere near you and the children… Easier said than done, of course.

Then, in a matter of moments, as Starscream lurches away from your ‘blinding’ beam of light and throws his arms up to defend his optics, the Prime finds himself mirroring Bulkhead’s astonishment. The pair of them gawk down at you as you take their youngest charges by the hands, drive Jack ahead of you and bolt for a tunnel across the cavern whilst your weapon of choice flickers weakly in the dust you leave behind.

However, Optimus doesn’t linger for long to marvel over your quick-thinking.

“I’m BLIND!” Starscream is shrieking, tearing his servos away from his optics and blinking down at them, faceplates screwed up in anguish, “YOU’VE BLINDED ME! YOU-!...”

Just like that, he goes utterly still, giving another series of rapid blinks as he flips his very-much-still-visible servos back and forth, wings slumping at the realisation. “Oh.”

Whatever relief he might have felt, accompanied by the swelling fury that he’d been a victim of blatant skulduggery is short-lived.

Motion from the corner of his optic alerts him just in the nick of time to Optimus Prime’s fist, hurtling on a collision course with his helm. Letting out a squawk, the Seeker barely manages to duck the first strike, feeling the air rush past his faceplates as he launches himself backwards, vying for some much-needed distance between himself and his adversaries, only for his efforts to fall flat when an even more devastating force catches him unawares.

With all the driving power of a siege engine, the Wrecker’s signature weapon buries itself into Starscream’s tanks. Hard.

“ACK-!” The garbled sound jumps unwillingly off his glossa, and he doubles over at once, yet still forces his pedes to scramble backwards, curling one arm around his stomach plating while the other flies up to aim his missile at the Prime, sweeping it back and forth in wild motions to ward them back.

To his shock, both of them fall still at once, glaring murderously down at him with their own weapons raised and cocked, but otherwise motionless. And there they stand, side by side; two bridling Autobots planted stoutly between himself and their fleeing pets.

Starscream’s denta grind together audibly, and he lets out a strangled growl, tanks roiling from the force of the hit.

He’s lost the upper-hand. Without the human meat-shields, he’s only too aware that he’s just lost any and all chance at getting something out of this. And to think, he’d been mere milliseconds away from calling in Megatron to inform him that his loyal and devoted Second In Command was holding Prime at gunpoint.

Bullet quite literally dodged, he concedes. Minor blessings.

It doesn’t escape his notice how the Autobots’ optics are locked onto his raised weapon, nor how they’d turned rigid at his flaunting of it.

And then, in a sudden moment of clarity, he realises why.

It isn’t the notion of his weapon firing at them that’s paused their advance.

It’s his weapon firing at all.

‘Of course,’ he comprehends with building anticipation, his processor firing rapidly as ideas cluster around inside it, ‘The mine…’

Structurally, Decepticon scouts had deemed it sound for the finer precision of their mining drills… but the impact blast from an uncontrolled detonation that targets one of the fundamental tunnels….?

Oh-ho! Now who has the upper hand?

A flash of movement between the Prime’s legs catches his attention, and he dares a glance through them to see the little pests making their escape. And there, leading the pack is the duplicitous human who cost him his advantage.

Starscream’s optics narrow as he tracks the humans’ path, noting their trajectory.

Perfect.

Whilst the Prime and his loyal hound are bodily blocking Starscream from taking aim at their humans, neither of them have apparently thought to cover the entrance to the tunnel those humans are currently sprinting towards…

He’ll have to be quick, so it’s a good thing he already knows which tunnel will lead him out of this doomed mine, and a jet’s speed is leagues ahead of the ground-crawling Autobots and their vastly inferior vehicle modes.

“Give it up, Screamer,” Bulkhead grinds out, shifting his weight restlessly from one pede to the other, “We have you outnumbered. And outgunned."

"So I see," the Seeker wheezes, painstakingly drawing himself to his full height once again and fixing his sights on the Autobot leader, “And there’s something else you have that I don’t.”

The line is cast, and to his unmitigated delight, Bulkhead takes the bait.

“Oh yeah?” the Wrecker grunts warily, glaring down the length of his poised weapon, “And what’s that?”

With a smirk plastered across his faceplate, Starscream angles his missile to Bulkhead’s left, relishing the twin looks of shock and realisation that spark in his adversaries' optics.

He grins, a fever coursing through his wires.

“Collateral,” he says, and fires.

[scrompsautobotsrchives]

I’m real

I really can't stop writing about Bee, He's just so friend-shaped!! And he is the best comforter. Warning: Slight angst but ends with fluff. Word count:1.1K

You only just learnt about the word Decepticon a little while ago when Optimus was going through the archives of Cybertron, he then brought up a recording that contained one of them.

"Who's that ??" You frowned, even the menacing look was enough to give you shivers in your spine.

"Starscream, One of Megatron's many allies..."

Even though this Starscream or Megatron was somewhere probably and hopefully far away, You couldn't help but shake the feeling that one of them was behind you.

You began to learn about the Decepticons and what they did to the Autobot's when they captured them, It was something straight out of a horror movie.

"I don't mean to frighten you about this y/n, But they are and always will be a very great risk not only to us... but to your kind as well..." Optimus said sympathetically.

You knew he just wanted to help you just in case the worst came to worst, But the feeling of either Starscream or Megatron behind you plagued your mind for the rest of the day, Even bumblebee could see the shift in you. You weren't as playful when you finished all your tasks in the base, even on the drive home you were practically silent.

"You alright ??..." You heard the radio flick, breaking the long silence.

"I'm alright buddy... I'm alright..." You patted the dashboard gently as you neared your home.

You greeted your dad and soon tried to unwind with your normal routine, but your classic brain and intrusive thoughts, the Decepticons continued to plague up until you brought yourself to bed.

Taking a deep breath as you looked up at the ceiling... "They're not here... They won't be able to get you here..." You whispered to yourself as you soon closed your eyes and tried to sleep.

You soon woke up from a bang, looking at the clock, it was about 1 in the morning, rushing outside to find out what the bang was... you were horrified to find out that it was from bee... he was dead... lying there on the ground, his optics not shining the familiar blue light.

"Bee !!" You rushed out to get to him, but you were knocked out. Soon waking up in an unfamiliar location, tied down with the light above you being the only source of light, you tried to get out of the restraints but it was no use. "Help !!"

"Quiet human" You gasped softly as you saw red optics light up, it was one of them...

"What did you do to bee !!" You yelled at it.

"B-127 was a pain in the neck, I just got rid of the problem" The Decepticon chuckled darkly as he came into the light, Starscream...

"Megatron will be so pleased to meet you" He smirked and dragged his sharp claw along your forearm, you grimaced in slight pain until you began to hear thuds. Another pair of red optics shined through, much taller than Starscream.

"Where is Optimus Prime ??" His voice low and menacing.

"I... I don't know what you were talking about..." You frowned, now scared.

He stormed over to you and got up close and personal to your face, making you look away.

"I will not ask again human !! Where is Optimus Prime!!" He yelled at you.

"I'm not giving him up !!" You yelled back... making it the biggest mistake you'll ever make.

He hummed and began to stand back, Looking at Starscream who just simply nodded to him. "If you won't speak, we will find a way..." He then raised an arm, a tiny robot soon crawled his way out of his arm and began to creep slowly to you, speaking in a language you couldn't understand.

You began to hyperventilate as you frantically tried to get out of the restraints, this little thing was just toying with you at this point. "Get away !!" You screamed as it then began to move onto your torso and crawl right up to your face, Continuing to speak as the red optics pierced through your eyes.

It cackled as it then began to transformed its hand into a sharp tool, It lifted it up, this was it... all you could do was scream. It made a move before everything then turned black, You screamed again when you jolted up, sweating pure bullets as you frantically looked around, you were back in your room. It was all just a bad dream, you slowly curled in on yourself and started to cry, It felt so real... Bee was dead... and you were about to as well.

But a familiar Autobot heard your scream, waking up from his recharge and getting extremely worried, he transformed and rushed out of the garage, he began to walk to your bedroom window, being careful of the plants. He soon spotted you shaking badly, he could see your panic rising.

He tried to attempt to lift the tiny window without breaking it. "What's... wrong...."

You frantically looked up and saw the Blue optics you've come to know and love deeply, Bee was alive. You slowly managed to get out of bed and shuffle to the window, you were shaking so bad as you then began to unlatch the window and open it, You were so spooked. "Bee..." More tears flooded your eyes, as you crawled out of the window to him.

He whirred softly and let you crawl into his arms, Wrapping you in a tight but gentle embrace. Patting your back as gently as he could, You tried to focus on the soft hum of his spark. He was here... He was right here.

Bee soon flicked his radio to play a lullaby, Humans liked lullabies. It worked as you soon slowly but surely started to calm down, and your breathing started to ease. Bee didn't do anything to put you down, slowly rocking from side to side, nuzzling you a little.

"Nightmare..." Was all that you were able to get out... Going into detail would only make you worse than what it already was.

Bee's optics softened, He gently petted you and tried to keep you warm, continuing to rock you as the lullaby continued to play. He soon pressed his chin against your head gently, as if he was trying to place a tiny kiss on your head.

"It's... not real... I'm... real..." He looked at you.

You nodded softly, looking up at the soft optics. Ones that promised to keep you safe and that would never let go of you. "Ok..." You sighed, safe in the arms of your best friend. Bumblebee would keep you close so long as you lived. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to you or him.

Taglist: @callofdudes

[sunmafiber]

The Benefits and Limitations of Machine Learning in Business

For personnel working with fiber optic lines, fiber id is a crucial piece of equipment. Without interfering with the signal flow, they enable specialists to identify the type of fiber, ascertain the fiber's orientation, and detect the existence of signals on a fiber.

A fiber identifier is a portable tool that enables technicians to recognize the kind of fiber, determine its orientation, and find signals on a fiber without halting the signal flow. Fiber identifiers function by detecting the light signal that is traveling through the fiber and reporting data on the signal's wavelength and intensity.

How Do Fiber Identifiers Function?

Fiber identifiers operate by detecting the light signal traveling through the fiber using a non-destructive method. Throughout the identification procedure, the fiber is not harmed, and neither is the signal. The fiber identifier's main working concept is clamping the fiber under test between two jaws so that it may identify the presence of a signal without cutting the fiber.

Some of the light that travels through a fiber is lost due to absorption or scattering. The kind of fiber, its length, and any other attenuation elements in the system all affect how much light is lost. The technician can ascertain the existence and strength of a signal thanks to the fiber identifier's and Visual Fault Locator detection of light signals and measurement of light intensity.

Fiber Identifiers' Value

While dealing with fiber optic connections, technicians need fiber IDs as a basic tool. These can aid in determining the type of fiber included in a cable, enabling personnel to choose the proper tools for installation or maintenance. Also, they enable technicians to establish the fiber's orientation, which is crucial for splicing or terminating fibers.

Very helpful for debugging fiber optic networks are fiber IDs. They enable technicians to pinpoint the site of a malfunction or signal loss since they can detect the existence of signals on a fiber without obstructing the signal flow. This is crucial for long-haul fiber optic networks since it might be difficult and time-consuming to locate defects there.

Fiber identifiers and Fiber Interferometer can also assist in avoiding damage to the fiber during setup or maintenance. Technicians can prevent mistakenly cutting or injuring fibers, which might cause downtime or expensive repairs, by detecting the presence of signals on the fiber.

[apod]

2025 March 4

A Quadruple Alignment over Italy Image Credit & Copyright: Valerio Minato

Explanation: Why does this Moon look so unusual? A key reason is its vivid red color. The color is caused by the deflection of blue light by Earth's atmosphere -- the same reason that the daytime sky appears blue. The Moon also appears unusually distorted. Its strange structuring is an optical effect arising from layers in the Earth's atmosphere that refract light differently due to sudden differences in temperature or pressure. A third reason the Moon looks so unusual is that there is, by chance, an airplane flying in front. The featured picturesque gibbous Moon was captured about two weeks ago above Turin, Italy. Our familiar hovering sky orb was part of an unusual quadruple alignment that included two historic ground structures: the Sacra di San Michele on the near hill and Basilica of Superga just beyond.

∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap250304.html

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: The Moon (pt. 3)

Lunicurrent - related to changes in currents that depend on the moon's phases.

Luniform - moon-shaped.

Lunula - something shaped like a crescent or half-moon; especially the pale area at the base of the fingernail.

Mooncalf - a fool, dolt, monster, or aborted fetus.

Moonglade - the bright reflection of moonlight on a body of water.

Moonraker - the top-most sails on some old sailing ships.

Novilunar - of the new moon.

Plenilunar - of the full moon.

The Moon...

Is the Earth’s only “natural” satellite.

Is moving away from the Earth.

Is 27% the size of the Earth.

Orbits the Earth every 27.32 days.

NOTES

There are 2-5 lunar eclipses yearly.

You would weigh 1/6th of your Earth weight on the Moon.

We only ever see half of the Moon at a time, even at “full moon”.

The light reflecting off the Earth and onto the Moon is called “earthshine” or “earthlight”.

In many languages, as in English, the word for “moon” is cognate with the word for “month”.

It takes the moon 29.53 days to cycle back to the same “visual” phase. This is called a “synodic month”.

A lunar calendar is a calendar based on cycles of the Moon's phases (synodic months), in contrast to solar calendars based on the solar year.

The Moon illusion is an optical illusion which causes the Moon to appear larger near the horizon than it does higher up in the sky.

Sometimes it’s possible to see the moon rabbit, or the shadowy face of the Man in the Moon created by lunar maria.

In the northern hemisphere, when the Moon is waxing, it resembles a letter “D”, and when waning a letter “C”. In the southern hemisphere this is reversed.

About 40% of the Moon is never visible from the Earth. This is referred to as the Dark Side of the Moon, even though it isn’t always dark.

Every month or so, the “old moon” sets for the last time as a sliver in the eastern sky. For about 3 days it travels invisibly alongside the sun until, magically born anew, it appears on the third day at sunset, on the western horizon. This course not only sets the moon in direct opposition to the sun, it also gives rise to various resurrection myths in which the hero spends 3 days in the underworld.

IN THE ARTS

In some myths, the lunar deity is represented as female (Greek, Chinese), while in others it is male (Mesopotamian , Germanic, Japanese).

In mythology, the moon deity is sometimes a friend, ally or consort of the sun deity, and sometimes their enemy.

In many mythical stories, a simple character mistakes the reflection of the Moon for a round cheese.

The Moon is the 18th card of the Major Arcana of the Tarot. It represents the mysterious terrain of the Shadow self, illuminated by the guiding light of the conscious.

Shakespeare calls the moon the “moist star” because it creates the tides, and also casts it as inconstant (because of its phases) and thieving (because it steals its light from the sun).

Georges Méliès shot the first science fiction film, Le Voyage dans la Lune (A Trip to the Moon) in 1902.

The Lunar Society of Birmingham, consisting of eminent 18th century intellectuals, was so named because its members met on nights with a full moon. The moonlight made their journey back home easier and safer.

Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata was originally titled, Sonata quasi una fantasia, and only acquired its popular name after his death.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ The Moon ⚜ Word Lists

[candidoptronix]

Deviser Light Source LS310A with Visual Fault Locator -

Its user-friendly instruments project a high-precision, semiconductor-grade laser for stable and accurate measurements.

DifUse the LS310A/B in conjunction with an AE210, 230, or 270 Optical Power Meter to access new paired functions such as wavelength auto-ID. Dual-λ mode switches between two wavelengths rapidly, producing measurement data for both.

[muletia]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 ₊˚⊹♡

obsessed!smokescreen x human!reader

summary: you and smokescreen are trying to watch a movie, but his irresistible and constant need for closeness stubbornly gets in the way. will you make it to the end? (spoiler: you won’t)

cw: fluff, suggestive, obsessive thoughts, unhealthy clinginess, possessiveness, very mild not nsfw dub-con, biting/marking, very light manipulation from smokey

word count: 1570

Your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Consciousness drifts into another dimension, and your head slowly tilts forward further as you lose contact with reality and embrace sleep with open arms. But alas, sleep is not meant for you—not yet. Your boyfriend is keeping watch, ensuring you continue your fight to stay awake. And when he's near you, he seems unusually attuned to moments like these.

"Hey, hey, don't drift off on me now," he pleads, voice desperate, because this isn’t your first slip-up. "We just started the movie!"

"Ah, sorry," you mumble, rubbing your face to try and wake yourself up, which works. For now.

Your attention returns to the flickering TV screen in the garage, and for a moment, you really do feel alert. You're not proud of how easily you drift off, especially with company, but the day's events are catching up to you, pulling your eyelids downward. You’d promised him you’d finally finish this movie together— you’ve both tried to get through it multiple times, only to be interrupted every single time by something—or rather, someone.

That someone is none other than your personal heater sitting next to you, the primary disruptor of your small private movie nights.

And, as you catch him from the corner of your eye, it's clear he’s got a new idea for spicing up your passive movie-watching routine. His broad smile is utterly contagious, and you fight hard not to let your lips curl. It’s endearing, but you’re not falling for it—not yet. You know exactly where this evening will go if you give him your attention. After all, you’ve lived this scenario many times before.

"Optics on the screen," you chide softly. "We just started the movie, hypocrite."

"Oh, I am watching," he replies, with mock indignation.

"Not me!" you sigh. "We’re not restarting this movie for the tenth time. Look at the screen." You motion toward the brightest source of light in the room.

He knows he should listen. He’s the one who suggested the movie night in the first place. He also chose the film—one of your favorites—because he wanted to experience it with you, to watch your reactions, hear your thoughts, and discuss it afterward. All of it was just a way to interact with you, to be showered in your attention. To absorb it like the finest energon, savoring its addictive sweetness.

It’s not his fault that everything you do is infinitely more interesting than any fiction on the small screen. Sure, he likes human culture and finds it genuinely fascinating—but only because you’re at its center. You’re the one who reveals its secrets, who offers him glimpses of the daily life he so desperately wants to be a part of. Watching movies together lets him simulate that life. He knows he should use every chance to learn more about your world. The problem is, he can’t focus.

It’s not as if there are moments when he thinks of you more or less. No—he’s always thinking about you. Seven days a week, every hour of Earth’s solar cycle. During missions, patrols, recharge—even when he’s with you. It’s suffocating, overwhelming his processor, a constant need to express his untamed emotions, but with no outlet to relieve the ever-growing weight.

Having you by his side is wonderful—feeling your scent, your warmth; brushing shoulders and sharing a blanket. But, ever ambitious, he needs more. Thoughts of you provide only fleeting satisfaction, failing to meet even a fraction of his desire. They leave him helpless once again.

Smokescreen doesn’t want to be just an observer anymore, a witness to the action around him. Those days died with Cybertron.

He wants to feel, touch, and explore, even though he already knows every inch of your body—every mole, scar, and birthmark. Alien, but captivatingly beautiful. Unparalleled softness. Addictive. Meant to be worshipped and adored. It’s no surprise his servos fit your curves perfectly, as if you were made for each other—not just in spark, but in body too. No stimulant could compare to the euphoria of adoring you. No human cinematic masterpiece, no mission, no praise from Optimus Prime himself.

"You’re incorrigible," you sigh. "You just missed the most important part."

Suddenly, he realizes he’s spent the last several kliks staring only at you, fantasizing about physically expressing all the emotions roiling within him. His servos are trembling now, and he has to touch you—to prove how much you mean to him, how vital you are in his life.

Electricity courses through his frame—a signal of surpassing limits. He’s nearing a breaking point, teetering on the edge of abandoning the careful balance of your relationship. Can’t let that happen. He accepts destroying himself, allowing his yearning for you to dictate his sanity, but no scars could ever mar your soul. No matter how many he bears himself.

His trembling servos find the fabric of your shirt and gently tug at it. Enough to send a signal, not to frighten. If you pull away—he’ll shatter.

"Hey," he begins. You glance at him briefly, but your eyes quickly return to the screen. He tugs harder, practically pawing at your stomach now, desperate for attention. "Please, I don’t want to watch the movie anymore. We can finish it another time, can’t we?"

He knows he’s repeating himself, using the same lines he always does. It’s cheap and undignified, unworthy of someone whom even Optimus Prime considered passing the Matrix to. But his need has consumed him, taken over his frame and spark, which craves you so intensely that static buzzes in his audials. Every molecule of his being chants your name, begging for you.

He moves closer, exerting pressure. It’s a dangerous game, one that could easily irritate you. But he’s so desperate he has to play his cards on this gambit.

"I promise we’ll finish it next time, okay? [Name], please, I need you."

"We could also finish it tonight, hmm?" you offer.

"But I already missed the most important part."

"You’re smart—you’ll catch up on the plot." He sees your playful smile, teasing him with your intentions. But this time, he’s too overwhelmed to join in the game.

One servo continues tugging at the edge of your shirt while the other slides beneath it, cautious and precise—while he still has the control to be so.

You finally give in, unable to focus on the film any longer.

"Alright, I’ll hold you to that," you warn, finally turning your head toward him.

What greets you are wide, pleading optics, shimmering with need. Begging for you. Beautiful, but deceptive. Luring you into a trap. Or maybe you’ve already been ensnared? Enchanted into letting him do more—letting his servo wander further up, finding its way to your chest.

"Incorrigible," you murmur, tilting your head slightly to one side, exposing your neck—his canvas for the evening. "But at least I’m not sleepy anymore."

"Good," he purrs near your neck. Warm, processed air brushes against your sensitive skin. "I’m going to show you how much you mean to me. I’m afraid it’ll take a very long time."

Servos press tightly to your body, while dentas leave their mark, creating art from love bites—one of his favorite human inventions. Such a pity he couldn’t bear them himself—would flaunt them proudly if he could.

"I wish they lasted forever," he whispers, kissing the bruised skin, already intoxicated by your closeness, even though it’s only a fraction of what he craves.

"And I don’t," you admit. His response is a hurt whine, but Smokescreen quickly resumes his work, moving slightly higher. His marks always came out messy, more like bites than love bites, but he was so proud of them that you couldn’t bring yourself to criticize him. At least, not directly.

"One of my friends noticed them once. She thought I’d been mauled by a wild animal."

You feel him smile against your skin because it’s an accurate description of his love. Wild, untamed.

"Sorry," but it's also unimaginably tender. "But you like them, right? I’m good at this, aren’t I?"

"You’re unmatched, love."

Not sensing the sarcasm, he holds you tighter, as if he wants to merge you both into one being. Feels his trembling spark yearning for a bond, a union with yours. And while you can’t grant him that, the mere act of sharing the most intimate, vulnerable parts of himself is satisfactory. Not enough, because nothing ever will be. Just like the love bites, the most blissful interfacing, or kisses and cuddles. They work for a brief moment, a fraction of existence. They fill the void, which begins emptying the moment you part.

"I need more," he groans. "Please. I need you."

"I wish you were this eager about watching movies."

You reach for the remote because yet another movie attempt has ended in failure. Your boyfriend doesn’t appreciate your effort to put some distance between you, even for a few millimeters. His servos hold you firmly in place, and his dentas possessively catch your neck. Luckily, you don’t have to reach far.

"We’ll manage next time," he promises, though the absent tone of his voice makes it clear he’s lying. You know he won’t last. He’ll falter at the start, trying to make up for lost time by showering you with affection, though it’ll only be a fraction of what he wants to give.

"Hard to believe that."

"Mhm, love you too," he mutters, utterly enraptured by your closeness.

[in1-nutshell]

Can I request alonger story of wobbles getting pushed down the stairs by the bully

First request of 2025!

Hope you enjoy!

Wobbles gets pushed down the stairs

SFW, Platonic, Mention of injury, Cybertronain reader

MTMTE

Rung thought he was going to have a nice evening.

He had just finished with the last appointments of the day and felt like he had earned a nice walk.

It would certainly help in destressing from hours of sitting in the same spot.

Maybe he would go to Swerve’s later and treat himself to a new drink.

His train of thought derailed the moment he heard a shriek and something falling on the ground multiple times.

The orange mech quickly ran to the source of the noise.

Rung skids to a stop when he rounds the corner. Wobbles is on the ground, groaning and clutching their bleeding helm. They look up at him and give him a wobbly smile. Wobbles: “Hey Rung… Mind helping a bot out?” Rung: “What in the Allspark happened!?” He is by their side and helps them stand. Wobbles has to lean more on Rung’s frame. Wobbles: “Don’t know? One click I was upstairs, then the next I’m kissing the floor… hey when did you get more eyebrows? Did Whirl make you get more?” Rung tries to walk with Wobbles. Rung: “No I did not get more eyebrows. Hmm, surely falling from the last floor wouldn’t give you that cut.” Wobbles: “Huh? No I was at the upper deck.” Rung: “… Wobbles we are on the lower deck… There are more than 5 flights of stairs in between…” Wobbles: “There are? No wonder it felt so long… Did someone dim the lights?” Rung: “I’m getting First Aid.”

Rung had never seen the medic run so quickly without using his alt mode.

He had done his best to wipe the excess energon leaking on Wobbles face, but all efforts proved to be in vain.

Wobbles was gently sat down on the floor while First Aid carefully cupped their face and tried to see if their optics would focus on his small flashlight.

The optics didn’t follow most of the directions.

Bad news.

With Rungs help, Wobbles was placed on First Aid’s back and quickly sent to the med bay.

Thankfully the wound looked worse than what it really was.

Ambulon was helping wobbles sit up a bit while readjusting the med slab. First Aid and Ratchet come over. The former was looking through some surveillance footage Blaster had sent him. Ratchet: “First Aid tells me that Rung found you bleeding on the floor of the bottom of the lower decks stairs.” Wobbles: “Yeep!” Ratchet raises an optic at the loud response. Ambulon: “Pain killers make them a bit loud.” Ratchet: “Anyways… Rung also said something about you falling from the stairs… from the upper deck?” Wobbles gives him a loopy smile and nods. Ratchet: “That explains—” CRUNCH! First Aid had crushed the data pad in his shaking servos. First Aid: “…Excuse me for a moment…” Wobbles waves at their Amica as he leaves. Wobbles: “Bring me back some Rust Sticks!” Ambulon: “Wobbles you hate Rust Sticks.” Wobbles: “They are for you.” Ambulon: “…” Ratchet facepalms. Velocity sighs loudly from the other side of the med bay.

First Aid had marched right into Ultra Magnus’s office and told him to see the security footage Blaster had sent on his file.

Now normally Magnus would question why the medic had barged into his office in such a matter but given that last time he came in with similar fury, it was justifiable… he let it sly.

The pair watched on video Wobbles heading to the stairs and looking down.

Suddenly a familiar looking mech came running from behind and kicked Wobbles square in the back before making a run for it.

The mech was one of the bots that was put in the brig for Wobbles bullying and it looked like he came back for vengeance.

Magnus told First Aid that he would handle this problem personally and that he would be coming to the med bay shortly to see Wobbles.

First Aid was about to leave when he saw a shadow on the wall outside Magnus office.

A familiar Empurata frame…

First Aid: “Hey, Ultra Magnus, you might want to get going.” Magnus: “I will be leaving as soon as I can get Megatron and Rodimus online and tell them that I will not be attending today’s meeting.” First Aid: “… I think Whirl overheard us.” Magnus stops typing. First Aid: “And I’m pretty sure he ran to Swerve’s for reinforcements.” Magnus quickly gets out of his chair and starts running out the door. Meanwhile in the med bay… Ambulon: “WOBBLES DON’T EAT THAT!” Wobbles: “I WANNA!” Ambulon: “THAT IS A SCAPEL! STOP! DON’T DO THAT—DID YOU JUST BITE ME!?” Wobbles: “AND I’D DO IT AGAIN!” Velocity on the datapad: “Note. Do not use the anesthesia in drawer C on wobbles. Biting is a high probability of happening.”