#viciousbite

[voraciouslyindulgent]

@viciousbite asked: -insert the meme icon to finding him next to a dead body here- //from Darkfang

Send ⚠ to find my muse next to a dead body

Beauty lived most vibrantly in the dying shrieks of a spark. The terror, the rage, the wordless pleas - none begged more desperately for life than on the precipice of oblivion. Tendrils of pure energy lashed and fought in whips of blinding light, screams unheard by all but the one plucking the strings. His own spark trembled with anticipation, pushing against the confines of its chamber. It felt too full, too hot, a smoldering burn nearly painful. Tarn wondered, a stray thought, if it would leap from his frame had he submitted to its desires and bared himself to its feast.

"Like the sun, how pristine it shines upon his light." He orated in a soft, gentle murmur, the libretto of a grand opera much adored. "Most sincere he was, yet betrayal he has committed to his most devout."

The mech below him, a dissenter who'd dared to threaten the peace of a triumphant Empire, let out an agonized cry, the jarring noise laced with static. Broken digits grasped for his mask, for his throat, but the grip was weak as energon bled a hefty pool across the ground. Upon the moon of a distant planet, hidden in the alleyway of a transport hub, Tarn sang the last notes of his hunt, and allowed his spark to gorge for the first time in years.

"Torn he was from his most beloved, from this world, by his own sword." The mech's life sputtered and flickered beneath him, stolen by force as his spark, its light barely visible through the seams of his armor, claimed consumption and ate its fill. "Truer oaths than his have never been sworn. None was purer." He sighed, shivering. "More loved...was no other."

The mech's hands fell limply, splattering in the puddle of energon faintly glowing. His plating dulled, mouth agape but lax, as Tarn completed his recitation. The last ribbon of energy seeped through his chassis, slipping between crevices to be taken by the insatiable hunger within him. With audible clicks, his armor closed snugly, and sealed his spark.

Overwhelmed still by the encounter, Tarn sat atop the corpse, kneeling on the wet, muddy ground. Intoxicated, his ventilation hummed a constant stream of heat, fuel pump a steady, thudding beat inside him. Stowed away in the dark, he didn't suspect anyone would discover him, or that an onlooker might be present. Oblivious, he waited for the rush to abate, optics dim and gaze unseeing.

[galaxyshuttle]

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

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

@viciousbite

[photobombingcryptid]

@viciousbite

There was a certain charm to abandoned buildings. More so with entire complexes having been left to rust and rot and to be picked apart by stragglers looking to get lucky.

What once had served a purpose, was now a ghost of its former glory. Be it factories, hospitals or research centers, it all must come to an end someday.

But what was there anything left to do after every copper wire and anything valuable had been turned to scrap?

People like Blaze step in who found value in what others turned a blind eye to.

Archives, personal files, photos, documents and anything left behind in drawers or unnoticed in shelves.

That, that was what lured Blaze in these dust-caked environments.

He had always found it rather peaceful. He liked solitude as he explored on his own terms. He'd found out his processor could afford to switch off, forgetting his greater worries about his life. It was a form of meditation.

Even then, he'd never claimed his odd career came without any risks.

The possibility of someone else lurking in these long dark hallways was never zero...

[captainseamech]

... no one tell him he's actually warm.

[arcanescholxr]

Continued from here

Dwight didn’t mean to tag along, if anything, he wanted to be far away from any sort of fighting. Not that Dwight would even be useful in combat. His only skill was plant magic and unless he could find a way to garden a mech to death, then he was a sitting duck. Sometimes being caught in the crossfires couldn’t be helped. Optimus made sure to lower Dwight to safety before the rest engaged in battle. So the witch hid behind a rock and waited for the eventually bridge to open up for him to take him back to base. That was the plan until Dwight found himself cornered by a mech, and it wasn’t an Autobot.

Before Dwight could scream or call for a help, a large golden tip pressed against his lips, effectively silencing him. Dwight already felt sweat start to bead at his forehead and a slight tremble in his legs. It was hard to muster up a brave face. The existence of alien robots was an easy pill for Dwight to swallow since he was constantly in the hands of Autobots. But now Dwight was in the claws of a Decepticon, and it made him very aware of just how frightening a mech could truly be.

Dwight’s heart dropped to his stomach when the Mech mentioned the Nemesis. That was all it took for Dwight to start struggling pathetically in the servos of the giant mech. His eyes darted around frantically for any sign that one of the bots noticed what was happening and they’d come to his rescue. But alas, the sounds of battle confirmed to Dwight that his friends were neck deep in a fight and they didn’t notice a Decepticon walking off with their human friend. Even if Dwight screamed, he was certain his voice would be muffled from the sounds of fighting.

Dwight wiggled in the mech’s grip as much as he could, which proved to be useless. From the way that he was being held, he couldn’t summon his staff and try using that to fend off his attacker.

Dwight struggled against the digits that prevented him from both moving or speaking. When he felt the mech’s optics on him, Dwight shot back a nasty look, despite the fear in his bones. He shot a look that he hoped expressed his distaste of the Mech and the situation. One that screamed, ‘I hope you become scrap metal!’

@viciousbite

[astrxthesiai]

(( brb beating Wanderers and my computer into submission. It's on a private server with Val @viciousbite and some ffxiv buddies. I love woodkid's "to ashes and blood" so it's my nickname on their server. ))

[altruistic-sunshine]

@viciousbite Darkfang is gonna stare at the liquid with curiosity before attempting to stick his digit into it.

"A- ah ah! Basta! Do you want a cup?"

Those claws are getting slapped away by Anon alongside a chiding wag of his index finger, the small mech giving him an incredulous look. So unsanitary! He'll pour him a sips worth to try it at least.

"It's hot, careful."

[cxffeeshxp]

@viciousbite || x

{{ L }} "Hey now, cutie, watch the drip." Infinity goes up, pushing the other's talons away from Gojo in suspended space. Can't just poke and prod people without at least asking first. It's rude.

Titling his head up to look at the other, hand resting on his chin, taking in their appearance. "Hmm, you're not a cursed spirit. What are you?"

[voraciouslyindulgent]

@viciousbite

Darkfang: "According to this Earth thing called 'internet'... Ah, a human flesh suit."

"I am both disgusted and bewildered. What use would I have for a suit of human flesh when I can easily use my holoavatar?"

[galaxyshuttle]

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

Wait...

Is he now Sire to some noodles?!

[photobombingcryptid]

Continued from X

@viciousbite

He was forever thankful he'd mastered the art of a poker face ever since his forging day. The only visible reaction he offered was blinking a few times and shifting his optics to glance at an empty space next to Darkfang.

"That wasn't very smooth." He eventually commented as he got closer to the edge of the rooftop to sit down at its very edge.

"Anyway, I'm a helicopter. You'd be surprised how much you can see from several hundreds of meters above the ground." He lit up a long, slim cigarette, taking a long drag. "And predictably, I got curious what you were doing."

Blaze took a lazy look down at the body resting on the lower platform of the building.

"What was their deal?" His helm then tilted towards Darkfang, posing with the same question.

"And what is yours? You're not a regular performer, are you?"

[spark-took-flight]

Continued from here ll @viciousbite

A late night walk through the halls had Brainstorm investigating a suspicious noise nearby to where the majority of the laboratories were. But, he hadn't excepted to find another mech, let alone one with clear signs of neglect. He glanced around, before he turned back to the mech on all fours. Weighing the options, it didn't take long before he knelt down, making himself small. Well, smaller. His wings made that task fairly impossible, but, he was attempting to make himself look like less of a threat by getting more on the other's level.

In trouble... Yes, it certainly seemed so. But what was he running from? What had spooked this mech so fully that he was out of the way and hidden in some of the quieter parts of the ship? He hummed, tilting his helm, before a smile graced his features, the plating around his optics crinkling slightly to convey the emotion. It was harder to emote with a mask on, but Brainstorm had mastered the art of extreme expressiveness to get his emotions across.

"Hey, now. No need for the hissing, that's kind of rude. Don't you agree?" He held out a servo to the other, keeping it just far enough away that if he needed to, he would be able to pull it back without getting hurt. "I didn't even know you existed until right now, so I'm definitely not going to hurt you. Nope, that's a promise. Now, how about you let me see if you're hurt, hm? Seems like a smart thing to do, and I would definitely know a thing or two about smart things."

[quantumlogician]

❝ Oh, look at you, you poor, poor thing, you’re hurt. ❞ He's being sarcastic. — @viciousbite

It was unclear how the injuries came about. Between the avalanche, the encroaching crossfire, or plainly being dusted and discarded by his own forces, Soundwave carried the burden of too many bullets as he sectioned into some wall to host his weight. A servo nursing his side until his nanites could repair the most superficial lattice over even the deepest wounds that bit into his waist and a thigh.

However, his manual efforts at repair were interrupted by a purring taunt. A soft up-tilt of his visor, vision blotted by hairline cracks and splattered energon, he faced this unseen beast in his tactical blindness.

[ Go away. ] He spat through the distort of his vocoder. His working hand moved from the major wound in search of the hilt of his proton-blaster, digit curled, ready, on the trigger.

[arcanescholxr]

KISS or SLAP + Darkfang

Send KISS or SLAP + name to see if my muse would kiss or slap said character.

“Could a slap even affect you? I feel like if I tried slapping you, it would hurt my hand considering what you’re made out of.” Dwight grouches.

“…you can get a kiss if you bring me something other than cereal.”

[captainseamech]

Tap tap, on the shoulder. When attention gained, flops a squirming lil servo sized cybersnake into his servos. No explanation given, and Darkfang is running off.

             Was High Tide confused as to why there’s now a tiny cybersnake in his servos? Well, sure he was, but he was double confused as to why Darkfang did that. Huh.

             “Why... hey there buddy.” Regardless of the reason, he wasn’t afraid. He even let the noodly creature slither between his digits with a smile in his faceplate. “Aren’tcha a pretty thing.”

[voraciouslyindulgent]

slurred words //Darkfang

Send “slurred words” for Tarn to badly describe your muse while overcharged on absynthe. | ACCEPTING

Tarn squinted at the bounty hunter--no. Ex-bounty hunter now, surely. There were no bounties on Cybertron. Not anymore. Why was he staring at this mech.

"You are very long and pointy." He stated, surprisingly articulate for how obviously overcharged he was, EM field unabashedly loose and gaze scattered. "You are pillow-shaped." Whatever that meant. Not that it mattered, because Tarn was reaching for Darkfang to pull him closer to use as a pillow.