#northlight

[unicornoftheday]

Northlight

[nevis-the-skeleton]

wired way to ask but what is the doing the parents show their love the most for the sparklings?

#tf#transformer#the polar star

BIG SPOILERS OF THE PART 6 OF "THE POLAR STAR"

This is an interesting question, I will do my best to answer it ^^ with each Sparkling and each Creator.

*

Northlight:

Skyfire: He shows his affection mainly with hugs, or by conveying his love through his Capacity Empathy. It’s his way to show affection to his Sparkling, and also to remember that its Capacity can also transmit good things. So, Lighty always knows that, whatever she does, her CreaSky always loves her.

Starscream: Less in physical affection, he expresses it much more with his wings, even if it is often accidental. Northlight never doubts the love of her CreaStar either, because even if he is not always at home, as soon as he is there, he never hides his joy which is reflected in his wings when he sees Sky and Lighty.

*

The little Predacons:

Predaking: Predaking is very much into tactile affection, surprise hugs, kisses, pats on the head. He also very often offers outings with those who can fly, then with those who cannot. He also offers outings where everyone can participate.

Steve: Verbal affection mainly. He's a little strict, but the little Predacons know that Steve loves them, they have no doubts. There needs to be a strict but loving Creator in the group.

Darksteel and Skylynx: They are more like big brothers than Creators, they get into mischief with the Sparklings, and never hesitate to tease them, it's their way of showing their affection.

*

Twitch:

Dreadwing: The Vossians are pretty reserved when it comes to their affection, but that doesn't mean they don't have any. Twitch enjoys spending calm and silent moments with her CreaWing, not a word is shared, but there is no need of that to share the mutual peace they feel in each other's presence.

Wheeljack: More hugger than Dreadwing in his affections, that's for sure. Twitch is sometimes a little distant, because Wheeljack's affection is sometimes too abrupt. But, Wheeljack always ends up apologize, and Twitch still agrees to have one surprise hug per month.

*

Trash:

Springer: They play together, and simulate fights. Springer currently has 30 wins and 1 loss. Trash catch him by surprise, Trash is very proud of it.

Arcee: Affectionate pats and smiles.

*

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker:

Ironhide: He love them both equally, and never compare them, they each have their strengths, and Ironhide will never see the point in comparing them. They always go on a picnic outing during the week-end, to be able to fully exercise. So far the twins are loving it.

*

Strongarm:

Ultra Magnus: Ultra Magnus is very reserved, just as Strongarm is, but Ultra Magnus makes a point of always telling her a story before she goes to sleep. Strongarm loves every story Ultra Magnus tells her.

*

Wildbreak:

KnockOut: Shows his love mainly by looking at the state of the paint on his Sparkling, that's how we did it at Velocitron, and certain habits are not lost. Wildbreak takes care of it, except when he's with Breakdown.

Breakdown: Breakdown and Wildbreak often take escapades into the wilderness, resulting in them returning in a terrible state. KO gets angry, obviously, but that adds to the complicity of Wildbreak and Breakdown. The two always end up giving KnockOut a hug full of mud.

*

Drag Strip:

Ransack and Crumblezone: No matter what Dragstrip says, he loves his Creators. They are often stupid and clumsy, but never in their love.

*

Sunder and Sceptre:

Froid: He gives them all the love in the world, continuing his hermit life with them, and hiding the terrible history of Cybertron from them. Froid wants to offer them a peaceful life without worry. He tells them stories, and never hesitates to take them in his arms.

[comfy-whumpee]

Lab Rat

Whumptober 7. Lab whump with extra dehumanisation and gore, this time!

-

There’s a taste in his mouth that he can’t get out.

The first experiment is simple. The muzzle is removed, and the body is fed water for the first time in days. It is helped to drink until it can drink no more, turning its head away from the feeding tube. Then, for the next twenty minutes, some mild acid forces the body to produce saliva, which is collected in test tubes on ice.

The body endures this placidly. It is cooperative with the cotton swabs placed inside its mouth. It holds still with its jaw wide, not needing to be forced. Maybe it is grateful to have been given water. Maybe it hopes, as the doctors do, that saliva will substitute blood in their treatments.

But the testing is done quickly and the results are clear. If there is power in the saliva, it is so diluted as to be useless.

And there’s a taste in his mouth that he can’t get out.

The second experiment is nails and hair. The body is unresponsive when the hair is trimmed. It looks to be sleeping, though nobody is sure whether it truly sleeps like humans do. It wakes up, as best they can tell, with no idea of what was done. But later that day, they trim its nails. The clippings are stored in another sample container and taken away for testing.

This is equally unimpressive. There was already significant doubt that such expendable parts of the body would contain anything of value. But it was proof of the previous experiment. Only things integral would be useful to gather.

And there’s a taste in his mouth that he can’t get out.

By the end of the week, Caroline has allowed another experiment, more invasive now there have been no ill effects from the others. The body still bleeds through the needle in its arm, and nothing else matters. So Caroline authorises a tissue sample.

The first one is small, just a scraping of dead skin from under their trimmed fingernails. The body barely responds to the dull shear on their fingers. The flakes are taken away in a petri dish.

Next is a slice of fresh skin. One hand is taken into a bowl of water to be thoroughly cleaned. This, unlike the rest, gets a response, tears leaking down its cheeks as if touched by the gesture. But it is done by uncaring hands, who only want to make sure the site of their sample is sterile.

Gloved hands press the knuckles flat on a rolling steel side table. Caroline does the incision herself, peeling back mere millimetres of skin with her sharpest scalpel. The blood, which cannot be wasted, is allowed to flow openly until it clots on its own. Caroline takes the sample off herself for immediate testing, while one of the acolyte doctors is responsible for soaking up every drop of blood.

Lachlan doesn’t know if the skin sample works or not. All he knows is that, the very next day, Caroline returns for more. As the body heals, and does not scar, she grows less and less worried that she will do something irreversible.

Kurt used to speak up. He is supposed to, if she risks permanent damage to the body, but he doesn’t say a word. He’s barely present anymore. He’s here because he was told to be here, and outside of working hours, he is gone.

Caroline stays. Caroline sharpens and sterilises her scalpels. She gathers her two favourite students, the brightest and most loyal. They cleanse the site of her next incision. She has chosen the thigh, and they make sure every strand of hair and speck of dirt is gone from the area she designs. No contaminants. Why stop at blood when flesh could yield better results?

The body knows it is coming already. Even as Caroline only prepares, it has clearly worked out the pattern. It keens in pain at the first touch of metal and doesn’t stop when it comes in earnest. She presses the scalpel into flesh, barely needing to push with as sharp as she has the blade. Blood wells up around it, and she cuts with confidence.

The body – Northlight – cries out through the muzzle, legs jerking and arms pulling at the restraints. The pain is audible in their voice. The tears flow from their eyes again, backwards down their face as their head is thrown back. Caroline is immune, extracting the gouged flesh and having it conveyed to be chilled and preserved for testing. One of her students is already stifling the bleeding. The other conveys the sample away.

Lachlan tries not to look at the blob of flesh on the tray, nor at the bleeding hole in Northlight’s leg. He looks at the body’s tormented expression, and tries not to listen to the whimpers low in its throat. It’s a sensible thing to do with the experiments, to build up like this. It makes sense. It’s scientific. The body was always going to respond like this. Simulating feelings. Like how trees bleed sap.

The…

Northlight cries in hopeless pain as the wound is tightly bandaged. Northlight shakes their head in plea when the doctor leaves. Northlight endures without painkillers, without even food. Northlight turns their eyes to him.

There’s a taste in Lachlan’s mouth that he can’t get out. Metallic and sour. He knows it can’t be real, but he can taste it all the same. He drinks it in his dreams and it makes him ache and shiver.

Every morning he goes to wash his face in the laboratory toilets, and he bares his teeth the mirror, to check them for sharper edges.

[t1naart]

[festus-the-artificer]

3D printed the service weapon from control

[melantheartworks]

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 ✦

Available on INPRINT

Follow me on instagram & twitter ✨

[an-magrittwne]

🌹- Nothern Light, has never been so strong, so far south in Scandinavia. This is South of Norway, & Lawer part of Denmark. The last part is quite unusual.

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Whumpril 2023 - Day 6

I haven't had much Sam muse until my good friend brought this up! Something short and sweet and peaceful. Northlight belongs to @comfy-whumpee!!

TWs: burns

Salve | Painkillers | Bad Coping Mechanisms

"Thank you." Samuel said, getting out his first aid kit. "I know it can feel like a lot to reach out when you've been hurt." He carefully rolled Northlight's pants leg up, exposing the burned skin underneath.

"I should be thanking you." Northlight said, one hand coming to rest on Samuel's shoulder. "I showed up hurt without warning and you let me in anyway."

Samuel smiled at them, glancing up as he pulled the burn salve from the carefully labeled compartment and uncapped it. "Nonsense." He said. "You're always welcome here, no matter how much blood you are or aren't losing."

Carefully, Samuel started applying the cream. As little pressure or contact as possible, with gloved fingers steadied by too much practice. "Just tell me if anything is uncomfortable, or too tight." He said, replacing his gloves to start the bandaging process.

Northlight just sighed, relaxing back into the worn couch. "No, no." He said, peace replacing the tension that had initially filled his brow. One by one, Samuel secured the bandages over the burns. "This is perfect."

[whitesales]

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[patmolnar]

New project we did in ATL with some incredible artists @im.2foot @leorasoul @_thesideshow_ @frankiefreeman_ . Huge thank you to my man @chillyolovesyou for bring us all together. And if you like Ethiopian food @rukiskitchenatl is the spot.

[amiracleilluminated]

[grigoreen]

[nevis-the-skeleton]

Here's Northlight, one of my OC and the daughter of Starscream and Skyfire in my AU "The Polar Star" in the Part 6 (that you only can read in french on Wattpad for now)

She cames out of the All-Spark, with many others Sparklings X3, but in reality she's really unique ;)

[comfy-whumpee]

Pity

Whumptober 6, made to watch.

-

Lachlan snuck out on the fourth night.

Dr Swindon had done the experiment twice now. She had looked him in the eyes and cut his throat. She had watched him bleed out with no emotion in her eyes. And he couldn’t get the image out of his head.

There weren’t cameras on the body at all hours, because it wasn’t going anywhere. They knew that for sure. Constance Irene herself had sent down the instructions for how to use the blood taken from the body before it got here. If the body couldn’t leave a circle of its own blood, they made the building from it. She had it put in the paint on the walls and sown in the soil in the grass outside. It had sounded bizarre, when Lachlan overheard Dr Swindon talking about it with her brother. Blood in the soil. But as much blood as was used in securing the lab, more could be taken as long as the body could be kept.

Lachlan was the one who could still escape. He knew he was being watched. It made sense. He’d shown his weakness now, shown he could be scared.

It was stupid. He’d agreed to this.

But it wasn’t so easy to turn his head up for the scalpel.

It definitely wasn’t easy to look at Dr Swindon in the same way.

So after doing that hour’s tests – blood pressure, temperature, pain scale, and the new voice test – he slipped through the door to visit the thing that made this all possible. It was kept in a locked room, but locked only on the inside. Lachlan stopped at the observation window for a moment, but the creature was looking out, so he hurried in.

Its room smelled bad. Lachlan had washed the body several times since its arrival, but it seemed like whoever had taken over for him, if anyone had, was doing a poor job. The stench of old blood was all over. If the creature had a sense of smell, that would be nasty.

Then again, it was bleeding pretty much all the time, so maybe it was used to it.

Lachlan lingered in the doorway, making eye contact. It really did look human. It wouldn’t make sense for it to be human, with everything it could do, but most creatures in mythology had humanlike forms too. The body was probably the inspiration for at least one or two mythical beings.

Lachlan wondered why he was here. The muzzle was always in place. He couldn’t ask the body for its opinion. That would be ridiculous, anyway.

On the other hand, what did he have to lose?

He reached for the muzzle. The body held still. It felt silly, suddenly, that there wasn’t a proper name for it. Just ‘the body’. When it moved and emoted like a person.

Surprisingly, the muzzle had only a slight tackiness as it detached. Lachlan couldn’t help but wince at the sight of the reddened skin underneath. He wished he had the washcloth and soapy water he’d used before.

He pulled back against the wall when the body moved, turning its head slowly towards him. The lurid red sigils were carved into it, all visibly different ages, but none of them properly healed. It looked like it shouldn’t be living.

“Thank you,” it hissed in a whisper-soft voice.

He should get it some water. But bringing a cup in here would make it way too obvious what he was doing. Removing the muzzle was the first thing Dr Swindon had warned them against doing. Lachlan had always wondered why, though. Did the body have a silver tongue?

“Does it hurt?” the body asked. Its voice was strained between every word. Any conversation had to be quick and to the point.

Lachlan swallowed. “Some,” he rasped, his own voice bearing the weight of his experiment. “Healing fast.”

The body closed its eyes for a moment. Then opened them. “You don’t look at me like the others,” it told him. “Not curious. No-ot grateful.” It had to stop and swallow.

Lachlan shifted his weight to his other foot. He didn’t have to guess. Curiosity was all of the doctors, especially Dr Swindon. Gratitude was Kurt. It was the weird thing about watching him, actually, and Lachlan watched everyone while being ignored. Kurt was always looking at the body, and he always looked amazed. It could be called blasphemy, to show more worship of the body than of Her Permanence. But down here, the rest of the Alliance was far away, and Her Permanence last announced her plans when the body was still missing. They had heard from her since. She only spoke to Dr Swindon.

But Kurt looked at the body like a gift. Something magic.

“You look at me weird as well,” he returned. It felt obvious to say.

The body winced, eyes darting away. “I am the reason you suffer.”

Laclan paused, thrown off by the comment. It almost felt…kind of selfish? Self-important? “I volunteered you know. I want to cure my brother and me. I chose to be here.”

Already, he was being caught up in this nonsense. He forced his breaths to settle calmly. Here was no point getting caught up in an argument with the body, the thing that bore the blood and only faked the rest. None of it mattered.

“I meant,” the thing replied. Even as Lachlan resolved not to listen, he found himself straining to make out the words. “I meant from the blood. My magic taken does not respond well. It will poison you in time.” At the last word, they broke off into weak coughs.

He shook his head. “I’m fine. Dr Swindon is monitoring me.”

“Your Pe-ermanence,” the body persisted, voice rasping weakly, “shows the dama-age it does.”

“She looks normal from what I’ve seen.”

The body was able to produce a perfectly normal, if quiet, snort of derision.

“In her portraits,” Lachlan admitted. “I’ve never met her in person. She’s busy.”

“She is – weak and frail. Her skin ash, her eyes red. She is as inhuman as I am.”

Lachlan looked away. The woman in the portraits was a beautiful, youthful blonde. Of course it was exaggerated, but… Was it just a lie? The Alliance promised eternal health and life. He’d always assumed that would include eternal youth. The body had eternal youth, that was well known.

“She is a revenant,” the body whispered.

He could have laughed. Could have, but didn’t. How was he meant to know? Zombies weren’t real, but nor were immortal magical creatures.

He looked at the body. Aside from the wounds that bound it here, or had bound it before, it was unmarked. Not a bruise, cut or scar. It was dirty, skin oily with dried sweat, hair lank in thick strands, but it was in perfect health. Through everything, it didn’t show a single mark. The tubes that kept it from having bodily needs were just a precaution. It wasn’t even thinner than before. It should have shown atrophy, but there was no change at all.

All of this helped counterbalance the scarily sincere pain in its eyes and voice. The ay it watched him. The noises it had made, when he was hurt. It reminded him of how long it had been since he’d seen his family. It made him imagine how upset his parents would be at what he’d been through. It made him think of his brother, the person who understood him best in the world, from whom he’d deliberately gone distant.

He lived in this la as much as the body did. The only people he interacted with treated him like a servant. His boss held him down and cut him open.

But every single drop of blood in this place was important. It mattered. It meant something.

“It’s worth it,” he said. God, the way it looked at him. Were those tears? “I’m sorry, but it is. If there’s a chance.”

He had to look away. He didn’t know who he was kidding. That wasn’t just a body. It was a person, in some way.

“I’m Lachlan, by the way.”

It probably already knew. But maybe, if it did have feelings, it would help a little to be asked.

“Northlight,” it whispered back. The kind of name you would use if you lived in the wilds and in clans.

Lachlan forced himself to move. He picked up the gag again. He’d had a moment of weakness, but ultimately, everything came down to his heart. It was time for him to go back, and pretend this never happened. Work would go on as usual tomorrow.

Seeing him with the muzzle clearly spurred the body on, because it said, “What humanity will you give up for humanity’s sake?”

“You should put that on a fridge magnet,” Lachlan commented, putting the muzzle to its jaw.

It laughed.

It was just a brief, breathless chuckle. Lodged somewhere in its throat. The joke wasn’t even really a joke. He’d just said it offhand. Wasn’t even thinking about it. And the body laughed.

Then another laugh, eyes on Lachlan’s face. Did he look comically surprised or something? What was so funny? The laughter continued. He had to pull back the muzzle so it was possible to breathe. And the laugh came out loud, a breathy thing, struggling to hold the jerky convulsions of the body.

Tears followed, as the laugh died out.

Lachlan ran his tongue over his gums. He couldn’t watch this. This wasn’t for him, some stranger who didn’t care for them. They should have loved ones around them. Did they even have anyone who loved them?

When the sobs stopped, he put the muzzle back on. He couldn’t look into their eyes as he did it. He didn’t want to see the pain any more than he wanted to feel it today.

This was a person. The knowledge couldn’t be shaken off. They laughed, they cried, they were afraid, and they were alone.

Not so unlike him.

[aleksikesa]

Bright Falls (Alan Wake II)

[honestlyvan]

Going through Ahti's dialogue for the translation with my meta sensors turned up to max really has produced a completely out-of-control amount of SAM LAKE YOU WILL ANSWER FOR YOUR CRIMES in my system.