#Star's digital faceplate goes glow

[kilala1148]

I just finished coloring these at 4:13am. My brain wouldn’t let me sleep until I colored and properly sized Star

Bonus Amogus under cut, plus things I am thinking to myself.

[I feel like the colors are little weird but I can’t tell which colors are correct bc my drawing tablet has different settings than my computer screen. This is an ever present issue and aaaaaaa]

In other news: Star’s design looks like a mess of colors and I love it, their daycare outfit is fun and I’m loving it. The circus colors are the same as always, so I didn’t add them right now. [Her knee-pads are too far down in the right picture, but it’s whatever. I’m not actually done with the stuff yet so yea]

If the colors look too odd/strong please let me know because I literally cannot tell. [Not talking about amogus tho bc that one is using older colors for funzies.]

[secretsolenoid]

A Secret Solenoid gift for @babyclownmyers!

As Bumblebee races through Detroit, finishing his patrol, he watches the sky with worry. This time of year, Detroit receives plenty of snow and harsh winds, and the young Autobot wants nothing to do with the cold. While he enjoys his alt mode, he was still upset when he learned that it didn’t come with proper heating, leaving him vulnerable to weather such as this. 

He pushes down his worry, however, when he remembers how close he is to his friend. Bumblebee pulls a sharp right, crossing a bridge that goes straight into the woods on the outskirts of the city. In no time at all, he sees the massive form of his companion.

Blitzwing turns toward the sound of a small, racing engine. He crosses his arms. “About time,” he mutters, spying the Autobot with a small smile of his faceplate. “What took so long?”

Bumblebee transforms in a flurry, mirroring the con’s stance. “I’d like to see you patrol through Detroit in that tank mode of yours and be faster than me!”

Blitzwing’s face swings into a black and red grin. “Ooh, what a great idea! It would be like hide and seek!”

“Ha ha, yeah! Anyway, check out this game I got from Sari!” Bumblebee reaches into his subspace and snatches the new disc his human friend got for him. Blitzwing kneels down to see it. 

The cover for the disc shows various different characters with futuristic weapons, the title of the game stamped in bold, flashing letters. The con tilts his head in confusion, his face spinning again. When it settles, he zooms a little more on the cover with his monocle. “What is it?”

Bumblebee grins, bouncing on his pedes. “It’s an FPS! I had racing games or puzzle games for the longest time, but this one actually has action! And it’s multiplayer! I’m so excited to try it out!” The young bot gasps, a bigger smile appearing on his face as his optics light up. He turns toward the tall Decepticon. 

“We can try it out together! I told you about my mini base, right? The one Sari and I go to for games when Prowl’s around? We could go there and actually hang out! I know that this is technically  hanging out, but we could actually do something together for once! Come on, Blitzy, it’ll be fun!”

Blitzwing narrows his eye in hesitation. “Won’t your friends find me? I’m not sure this is such a good idea, bug.”

Bumblebee wears a pleading expression. “They won’t find us! It’s secret for a reason! It’s really far away from our real base. Only Sari and I know about it. Come on Blitzy, just this once?”

The con tries to come up with another counter, to try to fight out the stupidity of this plan, but he does not last long against that face. His optics shine like stars. Blitzwing sighs. “Fine. Just this once, but,” his face switches into an angry growl, “if I’m caught, I’m blaming you!”

Bumblebee smiles, unfazed by the threat, and pumps up a servo. “Yes! This is gonna be epic!”

Fortunately for Blitzwing, this secret base is in the outskirts of the city. He flies to the coordinates his small friend gave him. When he lands in a clearing of the forest, he trudges his way through the snow until he breaks through the tree line.

It is just like the Autobot said: a small, abandoned warehouse nowhere near the bustling noise of Detroit. The structure is still stable, shielding the inside from the cold outside. And from the outside alone, it looks fairly inconspicuous. It’s a perfect getaway.

The con steps away from the forest towards the large entryway of the warehouse. He pauses. There is movement inside.

When he peers in, he sees the sporadic movement of Bumblebee, who is hastily throwing things around the small room. The warehouse seems to be one large room, although the center of activity is in the back corner. There, a giant monitor sits on a table, with miscellaneous wires strewn hastily around behind it. A small, black box sits near the screen, a green light softly emanating from a button. Two extra large beanbags lay in front of the TV set, with strange, tiny items thrown in various places. 

As Blitzwing makes his presence known through his loud footsteps, Bumblebee turns to greet him with an excited smile. “Hey Blitzy! You like my base? Oh! You can sit down if you want, just make sure not the crush the controller,” Bumblebee says, pointing at a beanbag as he fiddles with the black box.

When he looks down at the seat, Blitzwing finds a compact, black object sitting there. It is way too small for the con to use, but he supposes the yellow bot would be able to use this. Somehow. He places the controller on the floor next to the other beanbag before sitting. Having never sat in one before, he is pleasantly surprised by how comfortable it is. 

Finally, Bumblebee jumps back into his own beanbag, landing with an arm pumped up in eagerness.

“Alright! I can’t wait to try this out!”

“You still haven’t told me what is going on,” Blitzwing says, his optic narrowing.

The Autobot freezes for a moment before he lowers his arm. “Oh, uh, sorry. I’m just really excited to be doing something with you, yanno? Anyway…”

Blitzwing listens as Bumblebee explains the game and how to play. He still doesn’t understand yet, but it makes a little more sense now. But for Blitzwing, watching his friend talk so passionately about something makes it worth coming here.

When Bumblebee finishes his explanation and launches the game, he perks up, grabbing some sort of green liquid. “Oh yeah, there’s some snacks if you want some! It’s not energon, but it’s really good!”

The taller bot has to crane his neck to analyze the assortment of bags and bottles scattered around the beanbags. So that’s what those are. Fuel, huh?

Intrigued, Blitzwing picks up a neon green bag, the labels bright and flashy. This looks like something Bumblebee would intake, no doubt. Very careful not to tear apart the package, it takes a moment for him to open the bag with his larger digits. When he is successful, he pours a few of the chips into his mouth.

Immediately, his faceplate feels hot. There are multiple burning places in his mouth. But, Blitzwing has manners (somewhat), and swallows the toxins as his optics start to become fuzzy. His face switches into a furious growl. 

“What are you trying to pull? Are you trying to poison me!?”

Bumblebee glances up from the game to Blitzwing, then looks at the bag. “Oh! No, no, no! Those are, uh, very spicy chips. I probably shouldn’t’ve brought those out. Here,” the small bot passes a tiny, clear bottle towards him and another bag, “these are not spicy. They’re good, I promise!”

This time, Bumblebee helps to open the bottle and chips for the larger con. The burning sensation still hasn’t left yet, so Blitzwing snatches the bottle first, switches to his first face and drinks all of its contents. Thankfully, the water washes away the bad taste in his mouth, and he feels his face start to cool. He sighs and eyes the bag Bumblebee had passed him.

It’s significantly calmer than the poison bag. A simple, yellow color with a simple, red logo. With caution, Blitzwing shakes a few chips into his servo before eating some. They’re only a little salty, but the taste is bearable. Not that bad, actually.

Bumblebee looks to him. “Better?”

“Much,” his face turns into a chaotic grin, “So, is the game ready? I want to watch! I want to play!”

The yellow bot laughs. “Alright, alright! Let’s play!”

The sun had set a long time ago, plunging Detroit into a nighttime setting of glowing lights. The occasional car horn would blare. The thumps of music on street corners would slowly fade out as the night progressed. But what would remain constant throughout the night was the small warehouse bordering the woods. 

It was a mess.

Soda cans, bottles, bags, and packages were thrown about. There were a few spills here and there, and some chips found their way to the floor. The lobby menu for the video game the Cybertronians’ were playing was on screen, although the sound was muted. But it was the bot and con that drew the most attention. 

Blitzwing knelt his head in his sleep, his optic closed and the monocle dimmed. His engine hummed quietly, although the same could not be said for the bot in his arms. Bumblebee was sat in Blitzwing’s lap, his upper body secured by the con’s grasp. Despite his not needing to breath, he snored softly. Both slept comfortably like this, close to each other.

It was peaceful. And although Bumblebee dreads the stern talking-to he knows he’s going to receive in the morning, he would say that this might be the best night of his life.

[black-strike-otp]

part 53

//turns tf up some Chillstep and pretends to act like I Am Chill(TM) //

It was a lot easier getting things done around the transport vessel again. With Blackout back on duty, bots were more at ease and willing to listen to orders. Novastrike found herself instantly recharging better when curled against the side of the butcher of bots she called her darling suitor. Better quality of sleep made for better work; and exchanging blows in the small excuse for a training room settled in a more damaged and irreparable sector of the ship with Blackout and Scorponok and so near once again put her more at ease.

She still would find herself coming to a pause time and again. Hesitating her attacks, tasting death in her mouth, seeing flickers of a ghost in her vision. But with a cocktail of conviction and willpower; wanting to please those who believe in her and please herself, she found the strength to continue her daily assigned jours as told.

Quite frankly, she’d rather deal with the sour bite of trauma than Neutroboost. Every time she passed that mech no matter where they went, he was always giving her a dirty look. It probably didn’t help the new method of reviewing the energon stock was likely making it harder for him to sneak off with his stolen rations. Blackout offhandedly brought it up to her on a few occasions that the jours would shift when the numbers seemed to change the most drastically. For now however kept a constant vigilant count to rectify any missing cubes.

They had to be close to Neutroboost’s door. No matter how large or small the pool of suspects were; even if they didn’t take him seriously as a candidate for thievery, he was likely upon it.

Sometimes she just wanted to open her trap and tell Blackout or Guard what she knew was happening. Just when she thought that she’d built up enough courage to do so though, she’d run into Neutroboost and he’d give her that livid glare. All over again, she’d be reminded of his furious raving; the hot-helmed wrathful spouting he gave to her in the cargo bay. If not that, the pity she felt would remind her from the days prior to that how defeated he looked. Alone in his room, overcharged, babbling nonsense about how no bot liked him, believed in him, trusted him or followed his orders.

This was the same mech who once argued for her to stay long ago. She just had to remind herself he was still in there, somewhere. No matter the loss of his close ties with Crookedwing, Neutroboost had to still be in there, underneath all that hurt and bitterness. Maybe one day he’d even have his own opportunity to break free of the chains that battled him into the depths of his own inner strife too.

Until then, all she could do was hope and pray for him.

Just as she did for Guard. He barely could be found walking around the ship anymore. The medic managed to speak with Blackout and have something scrounged up to give the elder mech a larger, more sturdy cane to walk with. Sections of spare metal that had been set aside for repairs on the ship were manufactured into what had to be an uncomfortably stiff splint. The joint of his knee was completely without function now for all it appeared to Nova from the way he walked; rigidly swinging his pede in an arc with each step.

There was still good in the cosmos. It was visible in most of those on board the Rising Star. She believed that. She had to believe that. There was still aspirations that everything would get better. Cybertron would heal and they could return home. The war would end. Bots could get better and rekindle friendships long thought lost, sparks would grow fonder and apologies and love far more plentiful.

After all, Novastrike already got the chance to witness growth in one bot thought too hard and filled with revenge and hate to ever possibly be redeemable. Rogues called him a friend; she called him beloved.

Time passed; jours, days, a week, then two. Sparks could heal. Minds could change.

~

“I’m starting to think you just like buffing and glossing my armor for the sake of touching me,” Blackout pondered aloud with a sneaky smile on his face.

“Now that doesn’t sound like me at all!” the little femme retaliated whilst placing a servo to her chassis in a false show of hurt.

Blackout raised an optic ridge with disbelief. Novastrike couldn’t stop herself from giggling a little at his otherwise bare complexion.

“Uh-huh,” he gradually droned in response with a nod of his helm.

“I thought you enjoyed looking your best.”

“I enjoy looking more than sub-par, yes. But I’m fairly certain there’s an alternative motive to all this scrubbing you do.”

“Careful there,” Nova chimmed with a waggle of her digit. “You wouldn’t want to misjudge a poor, unblemished, sweet, innocent, naive little femme. It may break a poor femme’s spark.”

A snort of laughter resonated through the mech. “I might have believe that once, but I’m not totally dense. You have some fiendish tricks in your subspace.”

Giving a cat-like grin and a flash of pointed derma, Novastrike narrowed her optics slightly up at the towering mech playfully. Pulling her arm back with rag in hand, she whacked the fabric against his arm and pressed her glossia between her lips as she expelled a breath.

Blackout’s optics widened with surprise. “Did you just razz at me?”

“I did!” Nova stated proudly, placing her servos against her hips.

“You know the last bot to razz at me lost their glossia,” Blackout threatened, pointing out his index digit to proke the small femme in the tummy.

“What’d you do? Bite it off?” Nova challenged, and instantly made a face of disgust. “Ew wait- nevermind, I don’t need to know.”

“Gross Nova, really?”

“I’m sorry it just came out!”

“Do we need to have your processor to mouth filter scanned for?” Blackout teased, snickering.

Taking a step back from the mech’s prodding digit, Nova flicked her towel to whack him in the servo once more.

“Like you never get glossia-knotted and say the wrong thing!”

“That’s practically me on a daily basis, darling,” admitted the large mech with an agreeable nod. “Especially if it’s an unpleasant thought. The more unpleasant, the more likely I am to say it.”

“That’s because you got a bad attitude,” she pointed out in a snooty tone.

“I won’t disagree with that. Stupid bots deserve equally stupid responses.”

“You don’t say stupid things,” Novastrike disagreed with panic, dropping the rag in her servo as she stepped closer. Reaching out for his digits, she gently grasped his pointer and went to lightly pat him with reassurance.

She’d never seen such an instantaneous look of ‘oh really?’ in all her life. Optic ridge cocked, slight thoughtful frown on face.

“Okay, I’ll grant you that we all stay stupid things from time to time.”

A smile replaced the frown on Blackout’s faceplate and he dropped his optic ridge. “Your very thoughtful dear, but honesty goes a long way.”

“I just don’t like to see you beat yourself up.”

Her lip wobbled slightly as she spoke against her own will. Novastrike went to gnaw on her lower lip lightly to stop the slight quivering before Blackout could notice.

A vent escaped the big mech, and he maneuvered his digits carefully and slowly around her. His index digit pulled free of her servos as he moved, sliding partly beneath her chin to keep her helm pressed back to look up at his faceplate as he rubbed along her right audio.

“You worry too much about how I see myself,” Blackout commented shortly. “I’m fine, dear. Nothing’s bothering me. You’re much too good to me.”

“Well I’m going to continue worrying all I want,” Novastrike responded, doing her best to ignore the heavenly feeling of his finger along her ear. “Until you see yourself more like I do. Because you have good inside you, and you are worthy of praise and happiness.”

“That just means I’m qualified to spoil the frag out of you too, you know that right?” Blackout teased.

Turning her helm slightly, Novastrike pulled her chin off of Blackout’s digit. A brief flicker of concern lit up in his optics as she pulled away from his servo for a nanoklik. As she stepped back, she grabbed his digits and yanked downward. He seemed to get the notion easily, and lowered his arm down against the berth.

Reaching over his arm, Novastrike smothered her servos over the area of his forearm currently missing a panel of armor. The scars that ran from his wrist up towards his elbow joint on his protoform were visible; and she rubbed her servos all over them.

“See these?” she demanded fiercely. “These may be a part of who you are, but they are not all you. You are a survivor who has endured, a fighter, a legacy, a hard-worker. You are all these things, but you are more. You are careful and cautious. You are gentle and kind. You can weigh the options with your own mind and make your own decisions in life. Some bots only see the parts of you they want, or the parts that they fear, but what they say about you is not the whole you. Just as you refuse to see all that you are.”

Blackout spoke in a profoundly thick voice; eeriely quiet and missing the gravely tones but still profound as he inquired: “And what is it that I am that I do not see? What is it you see?”

She instantly felt breathless. Fidgeting in place, Novastrike glanced down at the discolored lighter marks on Blackout’s protoform that ran along to the metal that surrounded his wrist still. She see the reflecting glow from her blushing audios bouncing off the metal, giving a luminescent indigo fractured light.

Nervously rubbing her digits against Blackout’s protoform, Nova bent forward just enough to brush her lips against the scarring upon his arm. A slight shiver moved through the dark-armored mech’s frame as his chassis rumbled.

Glancing back up to the mech’s shadowy vermillion colored optics, Novastrike spoke softly: “I like to think I see all that is inside you. The old and the new; the bad and the good, the dangerous and the benevolent. All that I said before and so much more. No bot is just one layer of black and white, and you are no exception. You are both destructive and kind. A murderer and a savior. Someone to fear and someone to idolize.”

“And what do you want of me?” Blackout asked softly; his voice persuasive and powerful. “What if I want to be what you desire; what you deserve?”

A smile curved along her mouth swiftly. “It’s not about deserving. I want you, all of you, just as you are. All of your darkness and light; all you’ve done and are doing, and will do. You wouldn’t be as you are without all pieces that make you who you are.”

Novastrike let out a sudden shriek as someone grabbed her from behind. She felt her legs lift up from the floor and she dangled awkwardly in a pair of strong arms.

By the Primes, she must have been really distracted if she didn’t even sense Blackout’s holoform manifesting behind her.

“Blackout, you’re going to break my spinalstrut,” she wheezed, kicking her pedes out in front of her.

“Sorry,” he murmured quietly, placing her back upon the berth.

Taking a few steps away from him, Novastrike turned around and brushed herself off. Her optics dared to glimpse up at his holoform’s faceplate, and the gleaming red light. There was a hint of blue too; reflecting from her shimmering ears and glittering optics.

Giving an insecure shuffle of his pedes, Blackout rumbled quietly in his chassis as he commented, “If I startled you I apologize, I didn’t mean to. I was... a bit overcome.”

Moving forward, Nova reached out to place her servo on the holoform’s chassis, just over the spot his spark would lay. She gave a bashful smile as she met his gaze through slightly lowered optics. Heat was spilling out of her frame. She couldn’t determine how much of it was from humiliation and how much of it was the humming energy of excitement to how close he was now.

“Overcome, hmm?” she mimicked quietly, caressing her digits along his chassis.

A rumble moved through the holoform. Reaching down, Blackout grabbed her free servo between his digits. Bringing her arm up, he brushed a kiss against her hand and then slowly turned her arm over to do the same to her wrist.

His optics were twinkling with warmth as she hitched her breath. Tingles followed wherever he pressed his wicked mouth.

“If I am a better mech at all, it’s because of you,” he expressed fondly. “I know I’ll never be free of my faults and flaws, but I swear to you I’ll do everything in my power to be the best mech I can possibly be for you.”

Offering the sweetest small smile she could offer, Nova took her other servo off his chassis and reached up to cradle Blackout’s face. He leaned into her servo, smiling a little further in return as the humming in his chassis grew louder.

“You were always the best mech you could possibly be, and more than enough for me. More than I deserve, probably,” she admitted.

Blackout released a faint growl, placing his other servo along her waist and pulling her against his frame. The sharp points of and edges of his armor and kibble lightly poked and prodded against her softer armor and the ever present areas of her protoform. A slight shudder ran along her backstrut in response.

“A lie,” Blackout snarled quietly, leaning down. “You could win the sparks of dozens of better bots than me with a single glance if you wanted.”

“And you could easily have a hundred femmes or mechs at your doorstep in a nanoklik if you breathed the word.”

“I don’t want any other bot.”

“And I don’t want any other, no matter their grand status, species, or gender.”

The rumbling in Blackout’s chassis grew louder still, leaving his chassis armor to visibly vibrate from the low notes that rang through him. His servo released her own and moved to carefully cup her chin.

Novastrike’s pupils grew a fraction wider as Blackout leaned in to her more. The light of her optics dimmed and shuttered as he pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

The feverish heat of Blackout’s frame pressed against her own was intoxicating. Scents of darkness and light mingling; whispered threats of trouble and sighs of relief and devotion.

Moving her free servo, Nova placed it gently upon Blackout’s. He allowed her to move his servo from her face and hold it as a quiet growl echoed in his throat, deepening the kiss as his glossia swept against her own.

Groaning weakly, Novastrike’s digits gripped Blackout’s servo tightly. His arm moved as she lowered her own down without resistance.

The kiss broke suddenly as Blackout pulled away with shock.

Clearing his vocalizer sharply, the large mech leaned back a small fraction. His optics flashed down her chassis and back up to her faceplate as she pressed his servo against her interface panel.

“Are you sure-?” he barely managed to strangle out with confusion and shock.

“I’m sure,” she whispered, pressing a kiss against his jaw.

A rapid rush of hot air escaped Blackout in a rush, leaving a brief shimmering around his frame from the heat billowing out of his frame. Curling his digits very lightly along her inner thigh and interface panel, he shifted his helm to kiss her once softly once more.