#what is proximity sensor

[visheshgroupindia]

Proximity Sensors: Enhancing Efficiency and Safety Across Industries

What are Proximity Sensors

Proximity sensors identify an object's presence even in the absence of physical touch. Without coming into direct touch with the item, they are made to recognize when it enters the sensor field. In a variety of manufacturing applications, proximity sensors are used to identify the proximity of metallic and non-metallic items.

How Do Proximity Sensors Function? 

In the least complex terms, proximity sensors work by communicating information about the presence or movement of an item into an electrical sign. They yield an ON signal when the article enters their reach. There are a few critical contrasts in the manner that different closeness sensors work, as made sense below: 

Capacitive Nearness Sensor Working Guideline Capacitive 

Proximity sensors work by identifying changes in capacitance between the sensor and an item. Factors, for example, distance and the size of the article will influence how much capacitance. The sensor just recognizes any progressions in the limit produced between the two. 

Inductive Nearness Sensor Working Standard

Inductive sensors work by recognizing vortex flows causing attractive misfortune, created by outer attractive fields on a conductive surface. The discovery curl produces an air conditioner attractive field, and impedance changes are distinguished because of the created whirlpool flows. 

Attractive Vicinity Switches Working Rule Attractive 

Proximity switches are similarly basic and clear. The reed end of the switch is worked by a magnet. At the point when the reed switch is enacted and ON, the sensor additionally turns ON. 

It is additionally significant that proximity sensors are not impacted by the surface shade of the article identified. They depend simply on actual development and the movement of an item, so its tone doesn't assume a part in that frame of mind of the sensor.

The Role of Proximity Sensors in Modern Industries

Sensors have become indispensable in today's automated world, serving important functions such as tracking and positioning control. In this field, location and proximity sensors are reshaping several industries. By detecting nearby vehicles in the automotive industry and accurately tracking the location of delivered packages in production, these sensors show their versatility and potential in several fields.

Robotics

Both position and proximity sensors are used in many applications in the field of robotics. For example, linear position sensors are commonly used in robotics and industrial settings for object detection, part fixation, and machine control. These sensors play an essential role in detecting the location, distance, and proximity of moving objects and provide important information for robot navigation and manipulation.

Industrial Automation

Today many manufacturers use these sensors to improve work productivity and efficiency. Integrating position and proximity sensors into production systems enables accurate detection and tracking of objects on conveyor belts, robotic arms, and assembly lines. This combination enables precise object positioning and motion control in industrial processes.

Security systems

Combining proximity and location sensors, security systems can be used to track and control the movement of objects in a certain area. It is useful in surveillance, burglar alarms, and access control systems.

Automotive Applications

The combination of these position and proximity sensors can be used in parking systems to detect open spaces and nearby cars in a parking lot, and accurately track the location of a vehicle for parking assistance. These sensors are also used to improve the safety and performance of Advanced Driver Assistance Systems (ADAS) vehicles.

Smart Healthcare

Location and proximity sensors play a vital role in healthcare, facilitating the monitoring and management of various aspects of medical facilities. Wearable proximity sensors play an important role in both acute and chronic health conditions, as they allow non-contact detection and monitoring of physical movements and interactions.

Food and Beverage Industry

A proximity sensor for food is a type of sensor that is designed specifically for use in the food industry. It is used to detect the presence or absence of food items during various stages of food processing, packaging, and handling. 

As technology advances, the integration of location and proximity sensors is expected to increase security, automation, and sensor innovation. based systems in various industries.

[fangswbenefits]

Sharing is Caring (I)

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: A mission has both Miguel and you sharing a room… what could possibly go wrong?

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. ‘There’s only one bed’ trope. Dry humping. Fangs. Wet dreams. Love bites. Miguel in denial of his lust for the reader, but secretly touch starved.

You glanced at the watch on your wrist, suppressing a yawn.

Three in the morning had rolled around, and there were still no signs of the anomaly. Miguel O’Hara stood by the hotel window, gazing into the distance through narrowed and ever-watchful crimson eyes.

He was also not showing any signs of stopping for the night, but you were already far too sleep deprived to go on.

“Miguel…” you said miserably, sinking into the bouncy matress. “We should get some rest. We’ve been at this for hours…”

His face hardened slightly. “Get some rest, then. I’m staying up.”

Impossible man.

He was as relentless as he was stubborn. Once he had his mind set on something, there wasn’t much one could do to talk him out of it. He always had to have his way.

“We have sensors scattered all around the perimeter,” you said, feeling every last ounce of patience leave your body. “Any movement and we’ll be on it.”

This time he turned his head to you. “Sleep,” he grumbled, positioning himself closer to the windowsill, but just out of range of the raindrops that began to fall hard outside.

You exhaled in defeat. “Suit yourself.”

The bed squeaked as you moved to find a comfortable spot, eagerly flopping onto your back, facing the bland ceiling of the poorly lit room.

“The bed’s really comfy,” you said with a sigh of sheer relief, feeling the soft material dig into your sore muscles pleasingly. “You���re missing out.”

“The bed’s too small,” he said simply.

Right.

Trust Miguel O’Hara to find flaws in anything whenever it's convenient.

"Don’t be ridiculous," you scoffed, earning an intense glare from him. “We can totally fit here.”

“Uncomfortably, yes.”

You bit the inside or your cheek to keep yourself from mumbling a snarky reply, deciding not to push it and dive into a never-ending argument. You knew better than to do that with him.

Miguel suffered from chronic last word syndrome.

You exhaled noisily, as you pulled the soft sheet up to your shoulder before flipping onto your side to face the wall, ready for a much well deserved break from this boring mission.

Thankfully, the pouring rain outside presented itself perfectly, lulling you into a state of relaxation, and you felt your eyelids heavy as you drifted into sleep.

You weren't sure what time you awoke, but the room was now engulfed in darkness, with only the moonlight casting a dim light through the window.

The bed was dipped lightly behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder to find Miguel sleeping on his side. He had retracted his digital suit and you were now faced with his broad bare back.

You had never been in such close proximity with him, let alone in this state of nakedness, which had your stomach do a sudden flip. But both of you were beyond tired, so you told yourself to go back to sleep.

But then you heard it.

A soft grunt coming from him made you look over again. The muscles in his back twitched lightly with each breath. But something was off. his breathing was harsh and erratic, as if he was in a state is distress.

Another low and throaty moan was heard.

Was he having a nightmare?

He suddenly flipped onto his back and you were met with his bare chest, covered midway by the flimsy sheet you both shared. His face was twisted into a light frown, eyed firmly shut, but mouth parted, revealing his protruding fangs.

That was odd... Miguel wouldn't bare his fangs lightly unless the occasion called for it during missions.

But then your eyes traveled down his body to find a tent rising in his lower half, and your eyes nearly bulged out.

Miguel O'Hara's cock was pressing against the fabric proud and erect. The faint lighting was enough for you to make out the growing wet stain. From time to time, his hips would buck instinctively, causing a few beads of precum to seep through.

Oh.

You had nearly forgotten Miguel wore nothing under his suit.

Your mouth went suddenly very dry at the realisation that Miguel was actually having a wet dream.

Maybe you were the one dreaming, because the alternative just felt too much to be true. Witnessing the Miguel O'Hara in such a vulnerable and intimate position was not something you had on your bucket list, for sure.

Did you find him attractive? Yes. Would you gladly fuck all that grumpiness out of him if given the chance? Definitely.

So now you were torn on what to do. Should you wake him up? Should you just try to ignore the pant and grunts that kept spilling from his mouth? Should you also ignore the way your clit was now pulsing?

But the answer came with him moaning your name.

Your eyes widened and you gasped, immediately flinching away from him, turning to face the wall, heart drumming fast and in unison with your clit.

Before you could fully process the initial shock, a second one quickly followed as you felt him shift next to you to swing a strong arm over your waist. The top half of your suit had ridden upwards from all the commotion, and goosebumps immediately spread across the point of contact between him and you.

"Miguel..." you whispered, too afraid to make a sudden move.

He hummed softly, his large hand pressed flat against your tummy, as he pulled you closer into him, his breath hitting a sensitive spot just below your ear. But what truly made you jolt against him was when his cock came into contact with your ass.

At this point, you knew you had to brace yourself somehow, because you were too far gone to fight the overwhelming wave of pleasure that washed over you. It hit you slowly at first, and then all at once, as he slowly jerked his hips into you.

You were essentially trapped between his large body and the wall, leaving you with no choice but to press your hand against the latter, trying to steady yourself as he picked up the pace.

He mumbled your name under his laboured breath once again, rubbing his cock harder against you, the unmistakable spill of precum now coating your skin.

Your eyes were fixed on your fingers that soon curled into a fist against the wall from the jaw-dropping sensation, and you couldn't stop yourself from undulating your body to match his.

"Miguel..." you groaned in a miserable attempt at waking him up.

His hand slid up and below your covered breasts, his thumb dipping inside the tight fabric of your suit.

You immediately clenched around nothing, and felt your own wetness drip into your underwear.

There was only so much one could take. The voice of reason inside you was telling you to put an end to this right away, but you were not one to listen to reason, especially when you had Miguel O'hara humping you desperately.

His hand slid down to the hem of the bottom half of your suit and began to tug at it.

That was enough to snap you from the haze of lust. "Miguel!"

The reaction was immediate and you found yourself quickly being flipped onto your back and pressed firmly into the mattress, arms pinned above your head, as a breathless Miguel positioned himself on top of you, baring his fangs.

"Miguel... it's me," you said, eyed meeting his crimson ones. "You were..." your voice immediately died down as you felt the weight of the underside of his cock pressed firmly against your covered clit.

The grip on your wrists loosened and his eyes narrowed as confusion settled on his face. "What..."

You were trying your best to ignore his heavy cock, but failed miserably with a whimper, eyes snapping shut and your back arching reflexively.

Miguel grunted from the friction, and you felt him press further into you. "What are you doing?"

With a roll of your hips, you moaned. "Me? You were having a wet dream about me and dry humping me..."

His face drew near yours. "Nonsense."

"It's true..." you whispered shakily, yearning for more.

He moaned again, his balance faltering momentarily, head dropping next to your face. "I would never think of you that way."

You weren't entirely sure why he was now saying this, while still firmly pressed against you.

"Why not?"

He grazed his fangs along your neck. "You're too annoying."

"Then how do you explain that hard cock?"

"Biology," he groaned, hips jerking slowly.

Somehow, his refusal to accept his lust for you only served to fuel yours for him. His subconscious had dragged him earlier into a wet dream about you, and he wouldn't never be able to square this circle.

"So we should stop," you teased, dragging your soaked suit along his cock.

He stilled you with one hand, teasing your skin with his fangs once more. "Yes."

"Then stop."

"Hmm."

His lips latched on to your pulse point, sucking lightly, as one hand beside your head held his weight above you, and the other snaking in between your bodies.

"Let me just feel it... with nothing in the way," he grumbled after tearing away from your skin, and probably marking you with a hickey.

"Why?" you moaned, feeling your clit throbbing uncontrollably. "I'm too annoying."

He pulled the fabric down at once, visibly impatient. "Too annoying."

And when you felt his cock settle between your soaked folds, you jerked with a gasp. Miguel shuddered and glanced down along the length of your body. You followed his motion and were presented with the most alluring sight ever.

His cock lay neatly settled against your, strings of precum drooling from the tip and onto your skin, letting you know his body craved more.

"We should stop now," he said with a feral grunt rumbling from his throat.

You began to roll your hips to have your clit slide effortlessly along his cock, wet sounds filling the room. "You don't want to."

The way he snapped into you next almost had the tip at your entrance, earning a gasp from you.

"I do."

"Then why don't you?" you pouted, caressing his face and having him lean into your touch.

"Biology."

And as he closed the remaining distance with a searing kiss, his tip slipped past without much obstacle as your wetness mixed with his made it way easier. You felt the air in your lungs being crushed by the sudden stretch and you immediately parted your lips from his to let out a strained groan.

He was too thick.

"Just the tip, then," you panted against his lips.

He remained still inside you. "You can take more than that."

Probably, but all the teasing and unintentional foreplay had dragged you so close to the edge you feared you might combust before he buried himself balls deep.

Miguel proceeded to plant persuasive pecks along your jawline and down to your neck. "You can bite down on my shoulder, if it helps."

Your eyes widened at the proposal, and you nearly jerked into him, the promise of struggling to take all of him being way too alluring.

"Okay... but I'm too close..."

"I know."

He positioned himself and your lips brushed against his shoulder, before sinking your teeth into the flesh, and that was enough to signal him to slide in deeper.

You tried to easy the pressure on his skin, but the stretch was too overwhelming and he next thing you knew, your fingers were clawing at his back.

"Stop clenching...." he moaned and you detected despair in his voice.

You would if you could, but the friction was too good to turn down.

He growled in your ear, one hand gripping your knee to further spread you open for him. “Almost there, cariño..."

And just as you were finally beginning to easy your grip around him to fully accommodate him, the obnoxious sound of an alarm flared across the room, lighting up your travel watches.

Fuck...

The fucking anomaly...

Part 2

Masterlist

[satans-codpiece]

8 with screamer pls

8) oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck

(Implicitly TFP Starscream, post-Partners. Him sneaking around the Nemesis is so good for this.)

----

You thought you were dying; that someone's finally come to kill the High Command's pet human in an idiotic power play-

Until he was shushing you.

"What are you doing here?"

You hadn't seen him in weeks, months-- you still didn't see him as talons had curled together in a protective cup. Until your demand registered in his audials and each towering rod of metal sprung apart.

"ME???" He hisses, optics wide, lighting up the room in scarlet. All around you, his thin digits twitch with indignation. He holds you at chest height, but even here he makes you look up to see him. "What do you think I'm doing? I'm running on fumes out there and-" Starscream's head whips towards the door. All at once the red light that had been bathing you is gone, illuminating dark metal. It takes another several seconds before you hear what had drawn his attention. Footsteps- several in succession. A squad of Vehicons. Were they there for him? You turn back towards him and truly take in his appearance. As bright as his lights are in the pitch black room, they're dim- dim for how blinding they should be with him keyed up, ready to fight whatever came through the door. Worse, him looking away gives you the perfect view of the horrid scratch just below his right optic.

He holds you so close, so precariously folding his limbs to fit into the closet anyway- you stretch up onto your tip toes and reach for him. "Starscream..."

Your fingertips barely brush metal. His face snaps back towards you.

In an instant you can see it, plain as though he'd told you himself. He didn't come back for you-- not that you would have expected him to, he was hardly the most dedicated of them-- but now that he has you in his servos again... The apertures of his optics spin, watching you, betraying more than he would ever want to say. Outside, the footsteps recede.

"I was worried about you." You say, "I missed you." and it's true. When you reach for him again, he lets you touch, your tiny palm against his massive, cool cheek.

"Of course you did." Starscream says on instinct. But the waver of his optics, of his derma means there's something else. Starscream quiets as he struggles to say something with sincerity. Evidently, he doesn't quite get there. "I can't mass displace." It's not what he really means to say, replaces his first-line defense of sarcasm and self-aggrandizement with second-line allusion. It's enough to give you pause- "Have to be quick." and that's enough for you to push it aside.

You nod, instantly breathless. You don't know what quick means to him right now, so you skip the formalities and kick your pants off the edge of his servo. His optics darken at the sight of you adjusting, settling back against the quickly warming plates.

And when you part your legs for him- his engine hums, spooling up despite his attempts to suppress the sound- and his glossa spills from his intake. Slick, smooth metal joints trace up your thigh- and that's all the warm-up you get before he's sliding between your lips.

A gasp rips its way from your mouth- and you quickly cover it with your hand, sinking your teeth into your fingers just to keep quiet. From the heat in Starscream's gaze and the momentary flick of his wings, you think he'd wish you wouldn't- regardless of how tactically sound that impulse is.

He drags his glossa up nice and slow, lets his optics shutter, rerouting processing power to the chemical sensors on his glossa. It's been a quartex- no, two- since he last tasted you and your strange little organic lubricant. It's sweet and so strangely inert, his drained tanks aching for energy-dense fuel, not the delicious strings of proteins you leak so obligingly onto his glossa.

His faceplate is cool when he draws his servo even closer, your thighs pressing up to rough-worn metal. You sigh for the contact, squirm in his palm as his languid licks turn intentional, the tapered tip prodding at your entrance while the base rubs teasingly across your clit.

"Star," You sigh into your fist. He must hear it- because his engine gives a stuttering, half-aborted purr and his glossa pushes in.

With so little effort, he fills you- and your warmth, your softness, your taste surrounds him. This time, his engine's spooling goes unchecked, a deep rumble that rises in pitch- and yet does nothing to hide the distinctive shnk of his panel opening.

You wish you had the time, that he had the energy to fuck you properly. It's been so long, and as nice as his glossa feels pumping into you, squirming deliciously against your walls, it's not the same.

Around you, his talons twitch again- and now you watch his arm move and stroke himself with a pace that shuns the very concept of patience. Heat bursts from his vents, fans clicking ever higher in vain. It's been too long- too long without him, too long worrying. There's no room for the nice, slow reunion fuck you each deserved.

"Close," You gasp, but he already knows. He's felt how your soft, squishing walls keep trying to clamp down on his glossa, as though you could trap him inside that soft, wet little frame-

"Yes, yes," He purrs- voice rumbling unimpeded from his vox. Red light washes over your tiny body as he re-engages his optics, watches as you squirm in his servo-

And when you cry out, "Star!" body going rigid because of him- for him- Starscream's engine stutters, skips a cycle and he moans against your skin. His arm trembles, struggles to work himself through his own overload.

He leans away, his vents hot like desert air on your skin. The light of his optics has dimmed, lowered in the wake of his spent charge- but still coat your body in a garnet gleam, every inch of you painted red for him.

You rub your hand along his, feel the grooves between plates. "Do you have to go?" You murmur, staring up him.

"I'll be back." Starscream promises, stroking your body so carefully with one long, sharp talon. "I'll find you."

[nowimjustastranger]

Has Stcmo Ford come across a dimension that alerted him a Stanley was in danger, but he got there, everything seems fine. Keyword “seems”.

And after numerous checks, everything seems like in order. On the surface it just looks like another dimension with Ford, Fiddleford and Stan living together in gravity falls.

But there is just SOMETHING that feels immensely wrong about this dimension.

Like the way that this Stanley and Fiddleford seem a little too overly content with their lives, they aren’t seem to be lost or forgetting things so it can’t be the memory gun. And by the looks of it, the Bill Cipher of this dimension is dead.

In fact the more Stcmo Ford looks into it…

Filbrick is dead, Fiddleford’s wife Emma-May seems to be dead, Shermie is dead, newspapers on about the last few years show that many gang leaders have either gone mysteriously missing or have seemed to have been killed. Jimmy Snakes, Rico, several people who knew Stanley in prison are dead as well. Many people that would be considered a threat have been killed.

There’s something off about this Ford as well, he seems to always be watching Fiddleford and Stanley, the two always were within watch.

Like a wolf watching over his two sheep.

Not entirely sure what era this is happening in, but I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume it's a "Mystery Trio AU" type situation, so it would be set in the early years in Gravity Falls.

Ford has been in Dimension 1R^86 for three days now and he's nearly at his wits end, he has no idea what the threat is or even where it might come from. He hasn't slept at all either, maintaining constant vigilance of the shack and it's inhabitants.

Ford is currently perched in one of the large trees surrounding the shack, hidden in the branches with a direct line of sight to both entrances. There's been nothing, no activity around the shack within a fifty foot radius. Which is another thing, Ford hasn't spotted so much as a gnome rooting through the trash in the three days he's been watching.

It's... something's not right but he can't put a finger on what.

With a growl, Ford's eyes flick to the icon in the top corner of his hud, selecting it with a thought so the data flooded onto the screen, his proximity sensors online to warn him if anything tries to sneak up on him while he's preoccupied.

D – 1R^86 | 29 yo | COD: Blunt Force Trauma

No change.

Ford exited out of the data with a frustrated huff, he'd done a lot of digging into the deaths that surrounded Stan and the results all pointed toward one Ford Pines being the culprit, but the way that he watched over his brother and Fiddleford so intently made it highly unlikely that he was the threat.

The Ford in this dimension reminded Ford 419"3 of himself, an ambush predator watching and waiting for the opportunity to strike. A wolf that muzzled itself in the presence of it's sheep so they would not be afraid, because despite the wolf's nature, those sharp teeth and claws were never meant for the sheep.

They were for other predators.

Other predators that might also be watching and waiting for the wolf to stray too far from the sheep, waiting for the wolf's teeth to go dull as it grew fat and lazy within the comfort of it's den. But not these wolves who starved themselves to keep their body lean, who kept their teeth sharp with frequent hunts, who lulled other predators into a false sense of security by leaving the sheep unattended-

Wait. Shit. How long ago did the Ford leave the house?

His proximity sensors shrieked at him and Ford barely managed to dodge the first bolt that had been aimed at his side, the second burying itself in his calf. So the Ford was looking to incapacitate and not kill, not exactly a comforting realization.

Ford's landing was sloppy, his leg buckling when he hit the ground in a crouch, giving the Ford just enough time to line up a clear shot. Neither moved, both waiting to see what the other would do. The Ford's aim was steady and his finger poised to shoot, his empty stare more akin to a shark than a wolf.

"You've been scurrying around for long enough, little rat." The Ford spoke calmly, with a voice void of emotion. It was unnerving, how robotic this Ford was when he wasn't with his brother and Fiddleford, like he was removing a mask. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you."

"Your brother is going to die." Ford divulged, watching the Ford's hands flex on the crossbow, indecisive. Ford could work with that. "I can stop it from happening, but only if you let me work."

"You really think I'm going to trust you at your word?" The Ford asked with an ominous tilt of his head, dark eyes studying Ford as if he were a specimen. It made Ford's skin crawl, fingers twitching with the urge to gouge the Ford eyes out just so he would stop looking at Ford the same way He used to.

"You're going to have to because if you kill me, your brother is as good as dead."

[starqueensthings]

We need to talk about Echo (and by talk I mean screm). S3 E13 + 14 Spoilers!

FRIENDS, I'M GOING TO EXPLODE. I need to talk about Echo for a minute. We need to talk about Echo for a minute,  because he has spent the last two episodes in the absolute thralls of complete and total danger, and I personally don't feel like there's been enough of a celebratory uproar for me to be satisfied with the level of appreciation and love that man deserves. (Remember when Hunter ran face first into a colossal exhaust pipe and we all collectively lost our minds because it was so impressive and so sexy? Remember when Tech drove a speeder really fast through a tunnel and we all fainted? I'M A TECH GIRLY. IT WAS ME! I FAINTED!!) but, Y'ALL, Echo deserves that right now!! And for all eternity!!! Because he is wholly submurged in the harrowing potential of torture and execution, and he didn't even bat an eye to put himself there. My awe of him is all-consuming, so please forgive me if this rant reads as nothing but incoherent screaming. 

Echo haters (first of all, we can't be friends....) come on this journey with me! Let's back pedal to the beginning of the last episode (13). He stole an imperial shuttle. Let me repeat, he stole an imperial shuttle. And not just an attack shuttle. Not just a lil one-pilot transport. Bro somehow stole a Rho-class medical transport, which is very large, obscenely conspicuous, and very easily tracked. And, to use his own words, it was "the best he could do on short notice." The man stole a shuttle on short notice. ON SHORT NOTICE? HELLO, HOW DID HE DO THAT. WHY AIN'T WE LOSING OUR COOL ABOUT IT. 

Next stop on this I-love-Echo journey through my mind: not only did he provide his brothers transportation in the complete void of their own (RIP havoc bb), but he also came equipped with intel and clearance codes, and, as Rampart stated, those things change DAILY. Echo somehow procured top secret imperial clearance codes, and a fkn SHIP, within hours of the Batch requesting his help. Not to mention, the ship had yet to be reported missing (which means it was only-freshly commandeered), and the clearance codes worked. Of course they did. Echo never fails. Never doubt Echo. "Echo's on it."  

Choochoo, next stop! Once they arrived on that station orbiting Coruscant, and made their way to the control room (lookin sexy as heck in his armour-au-noir), he broke imperial encryption, hacked into the Imperial database, almost instantly found them the location of a ship departing for the prison that holds their daughter Tantiss, AND THEN DIDN'T EVEN HESITATE TO CLIMB ABOARD AND STOW AWAY.  

He didn't even remotely have a plan, or have time to make a plan. He didn't know who or what else would be on board that mysterious vessel. He didn't know where it was going other than the name of the fkn mountain (which has proven to be nothing but unhelpful thus far). He just ARC-troopered his way through that crowded hangar, dodging aggressive astromech's and inconsiderate loader droids, shirking from the perspective eyes of highly trained commandos, and snuck his way onto a heavily guarded, extremely unknown science vessel. Then, of course, he wasted no time, hacking into the ships control system (may I gently remind- there were at least three pilots and an officer prepping the ship for jump and closely watching all aspects of its controls), disabling the proximity sensors without being detected, and then seamlessly covered the troopers absence by pretending to be him (which we all know is what should have happened on Serenno but... hindsight is 20/20.)  

So... SO.... now we're at Episode 14. Here we at fkn terrified station because HULLO ECHO IS ALONE ON A SCIENCE DIVISION TRANSPORT; we have literally seen them carry around Zilo beasts in that shit. What the heck else could be on there that they don't know about? Literally anything. Because THEY KNEW NOTHING before attaching themselves to it. Echo knew NOTHING before sneaking onto that thing and creepin' around. Thank heck he didnt come across a fkn fresh wave of slither vines ok?  

NEXT, Echo shoots (not stuns- lol) a sassy fkn droid (they had it coming, not sorry), then another trooper. AND THEN discovered his only option for departing the ship once it enters atmosphere is going completely undercover, because (in true "we improvise everything" CF99 fashion that gives me heart burn just thinking about it), they had zero fkn plan to get off the ship. I will repeat: completely undercover. On Tantiss. COMPLETELY UNDERCOVER ON TANTISS. NO COMMS, NO BACK UP, NO RECON, NO PLAN, BARELY ANY GEAR, and I would just like to stress... no neuro brace. He left his neurobrace on that ship. Left it. LEFT IT AND TOOK A HAND INSTEAD. PLEASE FKN SEDATE ME.  

We can't leave this station yet... This I-love-Echo train needs to linger at this point for a sec because I think it's lost on some people how wild this is. Echo without his neurobrace is huge. It's a bigger deal than Echo without his armour. Armour is, in the grand scheme of things, inconsequential (one can find more- see Howzer). Echo's neurobrace is not armour, it's a computer and it's so so so crucial to how his mind processes information and events. Don't forget, the Technounion HIJACKED HIS BRAIN. They took every memory from him and manipulated it for their gain. Pruned it, tweaked it, blanched it, poached it, turned it into scrambled eggs, and then fkn ate it up and used it to defeat their enemies (Echo's family- I'm sobbing). They implanted him with an unfathomable amount of information; they changed the way the neurons in his brain fire in relation to stimuli. That neurobrace is so so critical for him. Now, we know he can operate well enough without it, we saw it in the last episode of the TBB arc in season 7 of Clone Wars, but... please.... to what extent? We don't know what an extended time without that neurobrace looks like for him... especially when all other aspects compliing his surroundings foreign, unknown, and dangerous, and that scares me.

AND NOW HE'S ABOUT TO RUN AMOK IN TANTISS with Emerie who, (I'm sorry) is wishy-washy as heck (who are you loyal to!!!!! What is your history!!! Are you trustworthy and what are you looking to gain!!!), trying to adopt a collection of Jedi children whove spent maker-knows how long playing space tetris, WHILST ALSO ATTEMPTING TO LOCATE AND ESCAPE WITH HIS BROTHERS UNDER THE EYE OF THE GALAXY'S SECOND MOST DANGEROUS MAN. 

So yes, short of d-d-d-di... can't say it... short of THE WORST CASE, Echo has made the ultimate sacrifice to save not only Omega who is literally the only person we've seen able to make him truly laugh, but all the clone brothers that he's been desperately trying to locate and rescue. His bravery and determination are literally unrivalled, and he did it while feasting on nothing but humble pie because that man wouldn't know arrogance if it danced naked under his perfect nose.  

Okay so welcome, we've finally pulled into I-Love-Echo station. Before departing the ride, please stand and do a hip hip hurray for the miracle that is Echo, including but not limited to, everything he's done, is doing, and is willing to do for other people. 

[klintoris]

I hate how I dont hate you

~ Jschlatt x Reader smut

warnings: forced proximity, ROUGH, choking, slapping, breeding kink in you squint, fluffy sorta. i think thats it.

I fucking hate Schlatt

I hate his stupid face

I hate his stupid mutton chops

I hate his nose

I hate his beautiful eyes

I hate how tall he is

Most importantly,

I hate how I don't hate him.

~

Going all the way across the planet with friends for a vacation is good, until your friends bring someone you despise being around. Going to japan with jack and connor was going to be a good trip based around content until they invited schlatt along since he was already planning a trip there. Fuck.

“Schlatt if you don't get that camera out of my face im actually gonna slap you” i spit at the partially bearded man with a toy camera in his hand. My arms slightly cross as I shoot a glare at him, “What's wrong toots’? You're so beautiful you need your picture taken”. 

I roll my eyes at his comment, “i will slap that stupid camera out of your hand” , “awwhh look at these two flirting!!” jack squeals. Me and Schlatt both turn to him holding his camera at us, my arms drop to my sides as I groan and continue walking back from our day out towards the hotel. 

~~

As we walk into the hotel, once we check in Jack turns to me, “you and schlatt are sharing a room” he says with a shit eating grin. I look over to Connor who is also smiling like an idiot, “do you guys hate me or something”, as they start laughing, schlatt who was just walking around the hotel's lobby pipes up.

 “Whats going on” i groan and turn to him with my hands on the sides of my face stressing my distaste before saying, “they are making us stay in the same room” as i say that schlatt shifts his gaze from me to connor and jack, i look into his eyes trying to find a fault in his accusatory glare, trying to see if he actually cares as much as he's putting out. I quickly turned away when he shifted his gaze back at me, “whatever, i'm tired” he turns and walks toward the elevators.

 As we stand in the elevator, jack starts to film again, “alright guys we finally, after a long flight we will be seeing the hotel room-”, i tune him out and put my focus on the red numbers going up, making me anxious, i wonder if they really set it up to where there is one bed (oh no is this the one bed trope omggg). Getting kind of excited i try to reevaluate myself, furrowing my brows staring at the elevator numbers, schlatt looks at me, before saying something- ding

The elevator dings, as the doors open up, Jack and Connor gesture for me to go first, I chuckle at this and head down the hall, everyone following behind.

 Walking up to mine and Schlatts room, i find jack’s and connor’s is across the hall. Tapping the keycard on the sensor, i walk in with schlatt following behind me, “are you fucking kidding” i turn to walk out bumping into schlatt on my way to scream at connor and jack.                    

I stumble back, “You can't be serious” i hear schlatt say once he looks up from me towards the room, “one fucking bed thats just great” he walks past me setting his bags down.

 “Well you seem just happy to share a bed with me” i say setting my bags down as well, “yeah totally, sharing a bed with someone i'm not too fond of is definitely on my list for this trip” i stare at him for a second before clicking my tongue and start pulling stuff out of my bag.

~

As I finish doing my skincare, I put my skincare to the side, as I finish brushing my teeth I take off my bra with a content sigh. putting on my lacy panties, I pause and think for a second ‘is that really a good idea, it's gonna make you look desperate ’. Taking a deep breath I put on my sleep shorts and big shirt, I walk out, viewing a schlatt with his hat over his eyes on his back, he's clasping his hands together with his legs crossed. 

I groan when i notice hes in the middle of the bed, “schlatt can you fucking move over”, no response, i grab a pillow off of the decorative chairs and whip it at him. It doesnt hit im but lands near his side, he jumps “what the fuck??”. “Move oh my god”, “no i'm not even near the other side of the bed?!” he raises his voice, as he says that i get on the bed and start moving him myself.

 He grabs my hands and pushes me off him, “schlatt move!!” I fight with him, pushing him more back, he then uses force and pins me down.

 I gulp, “get off me”, “not unless you leave me alone” i furrow my brows at his attempt to settle this, “dude you were in the middle of the bed how was i suppo-” i feel him kiss me, realizing what he's done he quickly pulls away letting go of my arms, “fuck sorry”.

 “Nuh uh where are you going” I grab his face pulling him back down to me, the once sweet kiss turns heated as he pulls me up from under him onto his lap. 

Gripping me by the waist he breaks the kiss, sucking and biting at my neck, I pull on the hair at the nape of his neck. Groaning he puts me back down getting on top of me, he pulls my shirt over my head, “fuck” he breathes out once he sees my naked chest. Kissing at the skin above my breast, he trails down to my nipple and starts suckling while pinching and kneeding my other tit and nipple.

 “Fuck schlatt” when i say his name he got more aggressive, biting at my tits leaving hickies and bite marks. I moan through gritted teeth, he trails backup taking my lips in a heated kiss, this time like he wanted me so bad he hated it. Schlatt hastily takes my shorts off along with my underwear, “fuck shes so pretty toots’” i whine in response to his praise then gasp as he pushes my legs back giving him full access to my pussy. “Oh my god- oh my fucking god-” schlatt starts to lap my slick up, eating me like a starved man, he licks and sucks on my clit while still giving my hole attention. “She tastes just as pretty as she looks, wonder if she feels good too” he then pushes a finger in while still attacking my bud, i let out a choked “shit schlatt please”, he continues his attacks.

I whine as he pulls away, taking off his shirt and sweatpants, throwing them somewhere in the room, he grabs my legs pulling me towards him, leaning over my frame he grabs me by the neck pulling me up towards his face. 

“Think you can hate me forever sweetheart, look at you absolutely dripping for my cock” schlatt, during his sentence, he slips his hand down towards my mound slowly rubbing circles on my clit before slipping two fingers into my aching hole. 

He starts rapidly finger fucking my cunt, “shitttt please schlatt i just- ah”, “what is it princess use your words” schlatt teases.

 “Please please please fuck me, oh god-” i feel the knot tighten in my stomach, “not yet you have to cum on my fingers, come on i know you want to, be a good girl and cum for me” his cock twitches at the clenching of my pussy, sucking his fingers like a vice as i cum.

“There we go” he slaps my cunt when pulling his fingers out, bringing them up to his mouth and sucking his fingers. 

Grabbing at his length, I get to see his cock for the first time up close, as it stands proud, thick and long, I panic. “m’ gonna stretch this pussy, make you forget why you hate me”, i breathe heavily as he grinds against my folds lubing himself up to put his cock in. 

He lines himself up with my drooling hole, pushing his tip in “so fucking tight” i gasp at the stretch “schlatt” “sh sh princess its ok” he lulls as he pushes his length further in.

 “t’big” i whimper, “you can fucking take it” schlatt says through gritted teeth, pushing the rest of his length into me. 

Sitting there for a second I feel so full, without letting me adjust, he pulls out for a quick second and then slams back in. All air escapes my body as he starts to thrust hard, one after the other, he slowly pounds into me.

 I whimper each time he plows my cervix with his spongey tip, “f- fuck-”, he chuckles at my reaction, looking down at my bouncing tits he grabs my throat as leverage before he goes faster.

 “Im not gonna hold back, im g’na fuck that attitude out of you” he grabs my hip as even more leverage, “i- i cant sc- oh fuck” i try to plead before my eyes rolls into the back of my skull, “you can't what toots’?” I stay silent. He sends a swift slap to my left cheek with the hand that was on my throat, “i asked you a question toots’” i whimper trying to catch my thoughts and breathing. 

“Fuck i cant take it”, “yeah?” schlatt says before reaching a hand down to my clit, I gasp as all the air in my lungs yet again are left with no air from the pleasure. I start shaking as he hits my g spot, i grunt out “right there right there please”, he starts speeding up hitting that spot, still abusing my clit.

 “ oh my god- j- fuck” i stammer over my words, “are you gonna come sweetheart? C’mon, cum on my cock beautiful.” he praises slamming into me still.  I shake hard as i cum, creaming all around his cock all while gripping his cock, “holy shit” he whimpers, starting to groan. “Shes taking me so good, im so fucking close”, “cum in me please, fuck please” i beg not in the right mindset. “Fuck ill breed your fucking hole so good, ah” schlatt starts to profusely whimper, making noises id never thought id hear from this mans mouth.

He cums in me, filling me with his cum. 

He topples over me putting his head in the crook of my neck, still inside me, my legs still shaking, “schlatt? Did I kill you?” he groans at my teasing. 

I giggle a little while he lifts his head from his place near my neck, “so, thoughts, do you still hate me toots’?” “schlatt..” he stares at me for a second, “i don't think i can ever hate you” i smile at him, he beams kissing me. 

“I don't think I can ever hate you either” he says with a smile back to me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

idk if i like this, it took way too long to make.

[mamawasatesttube]

"you've got something on your face." with timkon for the ficlet prompts 🫡 i miss them so bad

"Thanks," Tim says suddenly, "for coming over on such short notice."

Kon looks over at him from the other end of the couch, his expression soft and unguarded. Half of his face is lit up in warm amber lamplight; the other half is outlined in the flickering blue of the TV. Neither of them is really watching at this point, but the steady background noise is comforting.

"Anytime, Wonder." Kon stretches his arms up over his head, visibly stifling a yawn, and slouches back against the cushions. "I told you before. You call, I'm there."

"Still," Tim persists. His chest aches with fondness as he looks at Kon, snuggled up under a plush throw blanket that's too small for his long legs. "I know you're exhausted today, long space flight 'n' all that. So I appreciate it."

"Eh, it was just out to Proxima Centauri, not that far or nothin'." Kon shrugs one shoulder, languid and at ease. His voice is a little rough with weariness. "You should see some of the distances Kal's pulled off in one day."

Tim leans over and swats him on the shoulder. "Okay, but, like. Shut up and let me be grateful, will you?"

That gets a sunny laugh out of Kon, like light spilling through cracks in the roof to chase away the last vestiges of the shadows in all the nooks and crannies of Tim's brain. He's fine, really; he just never likes being alone after brushes with fear toxin. The antidote works wonders, but he still always struggles with paranoia afterwards.

So. Hence. Kon. Because there's definitely no ninjas in the vents or Charaxes on the roof if Kon's here. Between his incredible TTK-enabled spatial awareness and the superhearing, Kon's, like, the best proximity sensor this side of the known universe. He'd never let anything get the drop on Tim. And hearing him laugh...

Hearing him laugh does wonders for Tim's heart. Not that he's ever said so out loud, but that doesn't make it any less true.

"Fine, fine." Kon rolls his eyes fondly, catching Tim's forearm. "You're welcome, Rob." His thumb rubs over the pulse point in Tim's wrist, and Tim knows he can hear his heart skip a beat in answer.

Kon must know what he does to Tim. They haven't spoken about it—Tim has no idea how to speak about it—but Kon must know. His eyes twinkle in the dimness, bright against the windows into the rainy night, and Tim's breath threatens to catch in his throat.

He leans a little closer, reaches for Kon, and Kon lets him, fingers lingering on his wrist. He cups Kon's jaw, grazes his thumb against his cheekbone. Kon's skin is warm.

"You have something on your face," he murmurs, voice softer than he means for it to be. "...An eyelash. Here."

He holds it up so Kon can see. One of his thick, long, dark eyelashes rests on the pad of Tim's thumb, stark against his skin; it's small enough to seem delicate, even if Tim knows it holds the strength of steel.

Kon looks at it. Blinks for a second. Then his lips curve into a smile, and he tilts his head like a dog, eyes fixed on Tim's face. "Make a wish."

"Aren't you supposed to be the one wishing for something?" Tim frowns. "It's your eyelash."

"Hm." Kon considers for a moment. Then he blows the lash off Tim's thumb. His breath isn't icy, but it's still colder than it should be; surely that, and only that, is the reason for the shiver that runs down Tim's spine.

"What did you wish for?"

"Pretty sure I'm not supposed to tell you, or it won't come true," Kon says, amused. He drops his arm, warm and heavy, over Tim's shoulders, and pulls him into his side. "Nosy."

Tim rolls his eyes. "Maybe so," he says, and rests his head against Kon's shoulder. He wonders if Kon's wish is the same thing he would've wished for, too. Sometimes, he thinks it might be.

[tamapalace]

Bandai Namco US Announces Tamagotchi Original Angel at “Fun With Tamagotchi” 2024 New York Comic-Con Panel

Boy was the “Fun With Tamagotchi” panel incredible at the 2024 New York Comic-Con! One of the first and biggest announcements was the return of the Tamagotchi Angel, which is now known as Tamagotchi Original Angel. Tanya Sexton, a Brand Manager at Bandai Namco was so excited to finally reveal what she's been working on.

This series includes two beautiful shells, and feature three-dimensional angel wings on each side of the upper display.

The programming on these will be named “gen 3”, and be identical to the Tamagotchi Angel from 1998. It is important to note that this model does feature the a vibration sensor where you can tap the Tamagotchi on either side of the shell or by making a loud noise in proximity to trigger the sensor.

image source: tolovelfromvine on Instagram

Preorders already up on Amazon US, be sure to place your older on the return of an ICON!

[it-was-too-cold-always]

Always Read the Fine Print Chapter 12

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Who actually reads all the terms and conditions? After mindlessly checking a box years ago, our Reader unintentionally agrees to be part of a scientific study to create super soldier babies. To make matters worse, her fellow test subject is the brooding and intimidating Bucky Barnes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader struggles to accept this colder relationship with Bucky. Meanwhile's he's up to something...

Warnings: arranged marriage, forced proximity, lots of angst, violence, PTSD/nightmares, panic attacks, language, SMUT 18+ only, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex, size kink, let me know if I'm missing anything

a/n: Hi friends, I'm sorry it's been so long. My depression came at me like a b*tch. But I'm here now and will hopefully be posting more regularly 💕

Every night, Bucky would hand you that stupid syringe. Your heart sunk a little each time he’d knock on the door. You were hoping he was coming to spend time with you, to tell you everything was going to be okay, to hold you. But instead, he would put the syringe in your hand, kiss your forehead, and leave the room. That was it. 

As if that wasn’t bad enough, he was spending all his time with Steve - almost every day. You could hear them talking downstairs. You could never actually make out what they were saying, but you could hear their serious tones murmuring through the thin walls. You considered standing at the top of the stairs so you could eavesdrop, but you knew better than to spy on two super soldiers. So instead you paced around the bedroom–the one that you were supposed to be sharing with Bucky–and waited for Steve to leave. Although no one outright said it, you got the feeling that you weren’t invited to their little chats. One time, you went downstairs with the excuse of needing a snack. They immediately shifted the topic to Steve’s recent mission. Steve, ever the gentleman, would greet you with a warm smile and invite you to sit with them. He’d ask you how you’re feeling, how your day was going, if you’ve read any good books lately. You appreciated his kindness but felt a little awkward – surely they were itching for you to leave so they could return to their conversation. Once the small talk became unbearable, you’d fake a headache and excuse yourself. You claimed you were going to go lie down, but they could hear your faint footsteps pacing on the hardwood above them.

~

Bucky was completely and utterly miserable. He was still fuming about the sensors they implanted in you. You were his wife, and he couldn’t protect you. It made him feel powerless. He couldn’t stop thinking about how panicked you were the last time you had sex. He could feel your anxiety. He couldn’t help but think he violated you in some way. This prevented him from giving you any affection; he was terrified of crossing a boundary with you. The forehead kisses were as far as he dared to go. Deep down, he knew he should sit down and have a conversation with you about it. But if he heard you say outright that you don’t want to be intimate with him anymore, he would be devastated. 

~

After three weeks of doing this ridiculous syringe routine, you couldn’t take it anymore. He handed you the syringe, kissed your forehead, and turned to leave. Just like every other night. But this time, you reached out to grab his hand.

“Please don’t go,” you whispered, tears already welling up in your eyes. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate for his attention. 

“Oh, doll…” Bucky wasn’t sure what to say. His heart was breaking, seeing you like this. 

“Please, just stay the night. We don’t even have to talk. Just spend the night with me,” you begged, tears freely falling down your cheeks. “I miss you.” Your confession was all it took for Bucky to realize what an idiot he was. He was so desperate to protect you, he didn’t even occur to him that he might be hurting you. 

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m right here. I’m sorry I left you alone so much,” Bucky admitted, pulling you into a tight hug. “I was so scared I’d upset you, but I seriously screwed up.” He rubbed your back as you let all your tears fall. All those weeks of feeling so alone, but you finally had your Bucky back. You wanted to smack him and kiss him at the same time. 

He helped you with the syringe, which was oddly romantic. He was very gentle. Once that was over with, he pulled you into his chest, running his hands through your hair and down your back. You let out a long sigh – you had missed this so much. You forgot how your head felt resting on his toned muscles, how warm his chest was, how safe you felt. It was like a dream. A wonderful, euphoric dream.

“Do you trust me?” Bucky asked softly. The question caught you so off guard, your finger paused before it could finish tracing the scars on his chest. Propping yourself up, you looked at him quizzically. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that?” you replied. You were trying not to be offended that he would doubt you. 

“All I’ve wanted to do is protect you,” he began, sitting up to fully face you. He took your hands in his, mindlessly fidgeting with the diamond ring on your left hand. “But I’ve failed every time.”

“Bucky–“ you tried to cut him off, but he continued.

“No matter how hard I try, you end up getting hurt. I hope you can forgive me. Some days I can barely live with myself, knowing how much pain I’ve caused you.”

“Bucky, for Christ’s sake. This is NOT your fault!” you interjected, hating to see him beat himself up like this. 

“Doll, please just let me explain. It’s important,” he said, giving your hands a small squeeze. You nodded slowly and stayed silent, letting him continue. The urgency in his voice was scaring you. “You deserve better than to stay here and pay for my sins. I can’t stand to watch you suffer like this. Okay? I need you to understand.” His pleading eyes looked deep into yours. The more he talked, the more fearful you became. “I’ve told you some of the atrocities I’ve committed as HYDRA’s assassin. The things I’ve done to further their agenda, to get them in power,” he sighed deeply before continuing. “With the number of times they scrambled my brain, they assumed I couldn’t remember anything. That I wouldn’t recognize faces. But I do. I remember all of them.”

Your heart was breaking for the man in front of you. All those people he killed and all the ones that made him do it. They all take up space in his mind. No wonder he never sleeps. 

“The HYDRA members they arrested when I was freed…that was only a small fraction of them. HYRDRA is everywhere. If I break you out, there’s nowhere we could go that would be safe. I can’t rescue you until I dismantle HYDRA.” He paused and waited for your reaction. He wasn’t sure how you’d respond to all this. 

“Wait a second…are you saying HYDRA is behind all this? I mean that would make sense, this whole reproducing super soldiers thing is messed up, and they’re not exactly known for being ethical. But HYDRA working inside SHIELD? All this time? That’s…” You wanted to say impossible, but ever since your world got turned upside down, you don’t know what to expect anymore. You’ve completely lost sense of what’s normal. “So what do we do? If it’s as big as you say, there’s no way you can take them down alone.”

Bucky let out a deep sigh, looking around the room as if the words he’s trying to find will reveal themselves in the wallpaper. His gaze meets yours, but he won’t find the answer in your eyes either. He held your hands in his and took a deep breath.

“Steve and I have a plan. But we’re gonna need your help.”

Taglist 💛

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[silence-ofthe-llamas]

More stuff inspired by the mecha AU but unfortunately not following the lore pls forgive (I don't know if they want to be tagged as it's not canon compliant as it were, but original concept by @/keferon!)

The awaited Jazz/Prowl chapter I promised and then promptly forgot to post! Warning for major character death (mentioned/off-screen). Sorry, Jazz...

Petteri sighed, long deep and heavy, as he walked down the catwalk to the mech.

Apparently, not long after he’d been stationed on the base, the mech had taken itself offline. The technicians had taken a look at it. They’d flown in specialists from China, from the US, even Iceland. None of them could explain what was wrong with it. It just… didn’t want to wake up any more. The AI had decided it had had enough.

They’d slated it for destruction. Petteri was to take one last inspection, one last look, to give it one more go, before they took it for scrap parts, cannibalised it to keep their other mechs going. He didn’t know why they sent him. He’d never done an inspection like this before – he was as out of his depth as a fish out of water. But the higher ups had pushed him forwards, Swindle was eager to claw his money back on what he’d pissed down the drain on this mech, as he’d so eloquently put it, and so here he was. An untrained eye glancing over a state of the art machine as if he knew a damn thing about it.

He felt so drawn to the mech, like he had a sense of duty towards them - maybe it was the fact that his arrival seemed to have triggered the change? That they had a strange familiarity about them? He didn’t know.

He twisted his ring on his finger, feeling it run across his skin.

The old him would have been thrilled to step inside of the mecha, the pinnacle of the programme he was the poster child for. The old port in the back of his head ached. Be careful if you interface, the technician had warned him, gulping his too hot coffee that steamed up his glasses. Your old gear isn’t up for the job. If you’re plugged in for too long, it will fry you nice and crispy.

But now, he was decrepit and grouchy and a warning against that programme. It will take everything from you. You will gain nothing back.

“Let’s get this over with.” Petteri sighed. Reaching the console, he paused for a moment to look at the mech. A dim blue visor, a black helm. The opening hatch was at its chest, an expanse of white with blue stripes. Black shoulders were either side, blades going up the arms. All sharp edges and smooth, sleek design. It was a damn shame to lose any of it.

With a lump in his throat, Petteri adjusted his tie and looked for the button that opened the hatch.

The chest cracked whilst his hands were still firmly on the clipboard. He froze as the entrance to the cockpit revealed itself, the floor sliding out to cover the gap between catwalk and mech. The lights twinkled invitingly, and Petteri looked around.

Nobody. Just him. It was the night shift - they tended to be a bit quieter, and there was no reason for anyone to be out in the hangar except for him. There were no alarms. The pilots were all sleeping – either recovering from the days fight (no casualties this time, thank goodness) or preparing for the next one.

Cautiously, he approached. Maybe his proximity sensors were still active, and detecting a pilot had automatically sent the command to open. His equipment may have been old and unmaintained, but it was still usable. It still responded when it received a ping. It made complete and total sense that the mech would be able to receive the message from the antiquated technology.

Right?

The cockpit was warm. He could feel the rumbling of online systems beneath his feet, and he ran his hand over the back of the chair.Well, the mech wasn’t exactly offline. But they weren’t online either. Just… stuck. Waiting for something. In stasis until the correct launch code had been received.

The cockpit closed near silently - it was only the click of the bolt sliding into place that alerted him that he was now locked inside of it. Tutting and starting to think that this was now some kind of joke that was going to be going too far, Petteri turned on his heel and clipped towards the console, beginning to type in the code to open them-

The room was suddenly bathed in blue light, and the sound system chimed. Petteri looked up at the screen.

[<3 Prowler <3]

The corner of his lips tugged down and his heart twisted painfully in his chest.

The joke had been mildly annoying a minute ago. Now it was downright cruel.

“That is NOT funny.” Petteri scowled, glaring at the cameras. “Stop that immediately. Let me out. Now.”

The door didn’t move. The message continued to be displayed on the screen.

Petteri felt a crack.

There was only one person - one person in the whole entire world, the universe, who ever called him Prowler. The ring was the only thing he had left of them, a heavy weight that choked him. To everyone else, he was Prowl. His callsign. Simple, easy, monosyllabic. Quick off the tongue and quick in the field.

But to Jasper? His Jazz? Prowler. Only he was allowed to call him that. It was private, something between them and them alone, something they didn’t have to share.

And it was taunting him on the screen.

[I MISSED YOU SO MUCH]

Prowl didn’t reply. His vision was going red, he could feel heat prickle up his spine and flow down into his hands clenching them into fists. The clipboard rattled and creaked beneath his fingers and he ground his teeth.

Emergency escape it was, then. He stalked to the button, flicking off the protective cover and making to press it when the message on the screen changed again. He glanced up at it more out of habit more than sense, and paused.

[CAN WE TALK? PLEASE? I’VE WAITED FOR SO LONG]

He loudly swore and threw the clipboard at the floor. Damn it all, damn his weak and pathetic self for falling for this. He’d felt a brief moment of accepting he would be engaging with whatever fucked up ideas his tormentors had cooked up for him, and the crack had widened.

Jazz would have taken the bait. He’d have been curious enough to do it.

He wasn’t Jazz. He never would be. But fuck if he wished Jazz had been the one who had made it instead of him - he’d navigate whatever was left with so much more grace than he had.

So he took a moment to furiously pace and calm himself enough to throw himself into the chair, arms folded crossly, and tapping his foot.

“Well? What else have you got to hurt me with?”

[I’M SORRY]

[I WANTED TO SEE YOU SO BADLY]

[I DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT YOU]

Prowl frowned at the screen.

“… Who are you?”

[DESIGNATION: JAZZ]

It was like a lance through his chest, and he winced. Prowl had avoided looking at or thinking of the mecha’s name to keep himself from feeling the agony of it. He held the ring a little tighter, pushing it up against his finger.

He knew Jazz’s heartbeat - how could he ever forget it? It was tattooed onto his heart. Its waves were engraved into his wedding ring, he stared at the imprints of it on his finger on the rare moments he removed it. The ring as as much a part of him as his limbs were, and in turn so was the sound of Jazz’s heart.

So, pray tell, why could he hear it in the mecha?

“Who are you really? My… partner, is dead.” He was gripping the arm of the chair tightly. He slowly released one hand, each finger plucking off from the arm rest, and pressed it to his mouth. The ring glinted - a thick band of blue encased in shiny silver.

He felt the mech jolt.

[YOU’RE STILL WEARING IT?]

Prowl glanced down at the ring, watching how it caught the light.

“Every day.”

[MY NAME IS JASPER KORHONEN. WE WERE OFFICIALLY MARRIED ON THE 23RD OF APRIL BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T WANT TO WAIT ANY LONGER, BUT WE HAD OUR WEDDING ON THE 27TH OF AUGUST AND THAT IS THE DATE THAT EVERYONE THINKS WE WERE MARRIED ON]

The number of people on the Earth who knew that were slim. Prowl knew those who did – many of them were now dead. The kind old lady at the council. Jazz’s brother. Jazz himself. The only two people alive on the planet who knew the real date were himself and Ironhide – and Ironhide only knew because he was his witness.

And Ironhide wasn’t the type to do this kind of thing.

“Oh, my god.” Prowls voice shook, and he tried to take a calming breath. “I don’t want to believe it. Is it really you?”

[IN THE FLESH. WELL. MESH? ARMOUR?]

“Jazz, please be serious, I am on the edge of another fucking breakdown.” Prowl held his face in his hands, planting his elbows onto his knees as he curled in on himself. His eyes burned and his vision blurred. He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t. No, he’d spent so long in stupid fucking therapy sessions that didn’t do anything to scrub the sound of every bone in the love of his life’s body shattering out of his head, so much time trying medications that made him feel like he really were dead and pointless meditation tasks and behaviour therapy and-

He sobbed. He sobbed, and he fought to breath against the flood that coursed through him.

And Jazz waited patiently. He waited so very patiently for him, he dimmed the lights to make it softer for him, and he felt the air warm like a hug.

“What happened to you?” He finally asked, his voice weak and raspy, his eyes sore and swollen. “You’re meant to be AI’s – why…”

[SHOCKWAVE WANTED TO SEE IF IT WORKED] Jazz replied. [THE AI’S ARE LIMITED. THEY DON’T HAVE THE REAL LIFE EXPERIENCE THAT WE DO, THE RANGE OR ABILITY TO TAKE ON CHALLENGES OUTSIDE OF WHAT WE KNOW]

“So he tested on you?” Prowl frowned.

[I WAS DYING, THERE WAS NOTHING TO LOSE]

He knew he was. He remembered. He could still hear it, still feel it, if he let himself slip. The sound of the priests reading him his last rights on the battlefield whilst he was trapped, unable to get to him, was a significant cause of trauma - he could feel himself choke on blood that wasn’t there, feel broken bones he didn’t have, struggled for breath that he was free to take-

[IT’S OKAY, PROWLER - BREATHE WITH ME]

Prowl waved him off. He felt sick.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m.” He pressed his hand to his mouth, chewing on his index finger. “The brain deteriorates quite rapidly post mortem.” He got up to pace again. He felt the cameras in the cockpit train on him, watching him as he slowly walked up and down the short length of it. “He’d have to have been right there in situ with you…”

[I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, I WAS QUITE PREOCCUPIED WITH THE WHOLE DYING HORRIBLY THING]

Prowl had thought about that day a lot. It had haunted him, a constant spectre on the edge of his awareness. And so, he’d spent a lot of time mulling over the details. There had been a malfunction. Something had gone… wrong. Very, very wrong. For starters, they’d been separated. The old suits – the original ones that he was a pilot of – worked best in pairs. They augmented each other, two halves of one whole. Where one went, the other was to follow. Instead of being giant hulking suits of armour, they were much more compact. To be crude, they’d often referred to them as their Iron Man suits. Simply complex layers of metal that sat against their skin, making them stronger, faster, harder to hurt. It was perfect for what they later learned were the infants.

On the day the first juvenile Quintesson arrived, they learned two things. One, that their suits were absolutely not enough, and two, they’d need to get much, much bigger.

But Jazz was the only one to get that hurt. There were some, like Prowl, who had walked away with minimal injuries. A broken bone, bruises, fractures, the like. And others, with slightly more traumatic ones. Amputations. Burns. Multiple broken bones.

Jazz was the only one who was condemned.

“They always planned to harvest you.” Prowl slowly said in shock. He looked up at the screens as a proxy for Jazz’s face. “They were waiting for their opportunity. You don’t think…?”

[WITHOUT A SINGLE DOUBT, THEY CAUSED MY DEATH. THOSE SUITS DIDN’T JUST BREAK LIKE THAT]

Reading the confirmation on the screen made him feel dizzy. What did they do? Where did they go with that information? They must all know. The scum goes straight to the top of the pot. Ultra Magnus? Was he involved? Would he even listen? What about their investors? Sentinel might be interested to hear that they were harvesting soldiers for their so-called-AI’s, but there was only so much influence he had with men like Zeta and Galvatron on the board...

[PROWLER?]

“Yes, dear?” Prowl felt the corner of his lip tug up in a smile. Damn, it felt good to be able to say that to him again.

[AT THE RISK OF SOUNDING LIKE AN IDIOT, CAN YOU INTERFACE WITH ME? I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR SO LONG, I DON’T WANT OUR ONLY CONVERSATION TO BE THIS. I WANT TO SEE WHAT YOU’VE BEEN UP TO]

He felt his hands drop to his sides. Two halves of him fought viciously.

His duty was to report this. His duty was to do something about this. The pilots deserved as much – the other potential victims deserved as much. Jazz deserved so much more than to be buried within metal casing, nothing more than a puppet to the people who put him there.

But fuck, he missed him. He missed him so, so much. Everything had been so cold and empty since he’d left, and he’d felt the warmth of his sun. It had begun to melt the ice that had formed around him…

He sat in the seat and buckled himself in. The helmet lowered into his waiting hands, and he put it on before activating the interfacing sequence.

Prowl expected the sharp sting. There always was one, no matter how many times you connected with someone. The initial rejection of two separate nervous systems, not recognising the other and primed to attack, followed by the gentle handshake between neural nets.

He still jumped. He felt Jazz chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah…” He muttered. He could feel a warm, familiar presence wrapping firmly around his own, and his eyelids fluttered closed and he leaned his head backwards to bask in the feeling of it.

“Don’t say anything about you knowing about me. Please.” Prowl felt phantom hands cradling his cheeks, a forehead pressed against his own. “The last pilot I had – he went missing not long after he figured it out. I’m an anomaly, Prowler – can I trust you to keep your head down? Just this once?”

He sighed. He’d always been so weak to him.

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you, my love.”

Prowl could faintly see him with his eyes closed. If he focused on him, he vanished, faded away. He’d have to settle for the blurry image that felt like the sun.

“Now… tell me everything.” Jazz was grinning. He knew that much. And Prowl couldn’t help but grin back.

Two hours later, Prowl staggered out onto the catwalk, stumbling into the console. He held onto it for balance, digging the meat of his palm into his left orbital as he breathed in through his teeth. His previously pristine white shirt was spattered with red, his nosebleed being cast down from his breath. He counted back down from ten until the world stopped spinning again, and he found that he was not alone.

Swindle. He looked like a baby who had their lolly pop stolen. Prowl would have smirked if he had the energy to – he had been walking around with dollar signs in his eyes all day thinking of how much he could sell Jazz for. And behind him, Ironhide.

“’Hide.” Prowl forced himself to stand up straighter, wiping his nose on his sleeve. It bloomed red. “Get that mech back online and get me back on that programme right now.” He pointed at the back of his neck, where his implant was set, cradling the base of his skull, the skin around it red hot and inflamed. “And get me that upgrade. The mech responds to me.”

“B-but-!” Swindle began to protest.

“What did you do in there?” Ironhide demanded, reaching forwards to catch Prowl as he stumbled again. “You’re bleeding – you were in there for hours. You didn’t interface, did you?”

“I did.” He looked up at him with a wide grin that hadn’t been on his face since Jazz had taken his last name. “It felt just like the old days.”

Swindle gave him a strange look that Ironhide missed, but Prowl could have spotted from a mile away now that he knew to look for it. He returned it with narrowed eyes. He knew. Prowl knew.

I know what you did to my husband, you rotten bastard.

And it would be a cold day in hell before he even began to forgive any of them for it.

[carriesthewind]

Yeah so anyway, I'm making my response to this fucking garbage its own separate post in case people want to reblog it without having to reblog a scare-mongering lie.

This video pisses me the fuck off whenever I see it, and today I'm not in the mood to just scroll past.

Wow! Am I being lead to panic by scaremongering algorithm fodder completely unsupported by real evidence?! test:

The reason you think something exists is just what you're being told by a nefarious *them*, there is actually a conspiracy behind it!

I, an ordinary person with no expertise who critically examines the world around me, have uncovered this conspiracy.

"That's what they're telling you." (put the emphasis wherever appropriate for the conspiracy of your choice - in this case, it's on *telling*)

This new tech thing is actually a bad idea and the old school method was better - which clearly proves there must be a secret conspiracy, because why allow the possibility of incompetence and investor tech-hype when you can instead assume a highly-competent evil conspiracy?

I will now tell you my conspiracy theory while scrolling rapidly through a document without pausing or allowing you to actually read any of it. This allows me to look like I have proven my claims while doing nothing of the sort. Because do you really think someone could do that? Quickly flash a document on screen and just lie about what it says?

But Owl! This is real! A user upthread found the patent and it *does* prove it!

Yeah. I read the linked patent. Did you?

Let's quote the "real purpose" hidden in the patent, as claimed out in the video:

"The real purpose of these screens is to use the little camera at the top right here to scan your face and use AI facial expression analysis to judge whether or not you like the packaging designs of the product you're looking for."

This is complete made up horseshit.

First, let's look where the reblogger directs us, to column #4 on page 17:

"Preferably, each retail product container further comprises customer-detecting hardware, such as one or more proximity sensors (such as heat maps) , cameras, facial sensors or scanners, and eye-sensors (i.e., iris-tracking sensors). Assuming cameras are employed, preferably cameras are mounted on doors of the retail product containers. Preferably, the cameras have a depth of field of view of twenty feet or more, and have a range of field of view of 170 degrees with preferably 150 degree of facial recognition ability. Preferably, software is employed in association with the cameras to monitor shopper interactions, serve up relevant advertisement content on the displays, and track advertisement engagement in - store." (emphasis added and references to figures removed for readability)

That is the extent of the "nonconsensual data collection."

Now, to be fair, there is some stuff on page 18 and 19 which kinda-sorta-maybe has at least some relation to the claim in the video:

"Preferably, the controller/data collector is configured such that as a shopper stands or lingers in front of a given retail product container, the display associated with the retail product container changes yet again. At this point, preferably the controller/data collector has been able to use the customer-detecting hardware to effectively learn more about that particular customer, such as gender, age, mood, etc. The controller / data collector is configured to take what has been detected about the customer to determine which advertisement and other information to present to that particular customer on the display associated with the retail product container in front of which the customer is standing. By tracking shopper data in parallel with which advertising content is being served on all displays within the viewing range of the shopper, the retailer and the brands are better served, providing new analytics. As such, the system provides advertising, influence opportunities at the moment of purchasing decision, optimizing marketing spend and generating new revenue streams....

"Additionally, preferably all inputs collected by the IOT devices will be analyzed locally as well as remotely (via cloud) to provide the feedback inputs for the system to push more relevant/targeted content, tailored for the consumer. The analytics are preferably conducted anonymously, images captured by cameras are preferably processed to collect statistics on consumer demographic characteristics: (such as age and gender). This data is preferably subsequently analyzed for additional statistics for the retailers that are valuable for in-store merchandise layout design and smart merchandizing, including the ability to track the shoppers “traffic” areas, known as “heat maps”, areas were [sic] customers would concentrate more and spend more time exploring, etc." (emphasis added and references to figures removed for readability) (And note the repeated emphasis on preferably - they don't have a patent to do any of this.)

Which, like, not great! I fucking hate the idea of shit like this! But there is literally nothing here about monitoring your expressions to sell the data about how you react to packaging!

This isn't a nefarious plan hidden in the patent. It's tech bros adding on totally sick ideas about how they can sell this shit to walgreens. (Because to be clear, I'm sure walgreens's corporate office would love to collect and sell this kind of information. But just because they would, doesn't mean they can or are. And this patent sure as hell doesn't prove it.)

Because let me be clear: the image capture of consumers is so irrelevant to the product that it literally isn't even included in the claims section of the patent.

Because the patent is quite explicit and detailed about the idea they are selling big retails stores on - this is a better, new, innovative, tech-driven way to "provide an innovative advertising solution"! (The words "AI," "intelligent," and "machine learning" are deployed liberally, but in the same way that "blockchain" was a few years ago. It's advertising tech hype.)

I want to make it clear - the OP in the video is straight up lying to you. Whether for fun or profit or just attention, I don't know and I don't care. If you shared this, you probably should have know better, but everyone makes mistakes. OP, on the other hand, is just a fucking liar.

But Owl! What about "the senators looking into this"?

I don't know how to tell you this, but thing linked about is a press release by a politician's office. That doesn't mean it's not true, but it's not evidence on it's own. Like, the letter linked in the link included links to sources, but is not itself evidence (ooh, layers of links to actually get to a source, my favorite)(actually my computer wouldn't even goddam open the links to the source, I had to independently search for it).

Anyway, the letter to Kroger linked in the press release by the senators contains a single sentence and a single link relevant to the claim here (linked for your convenience because it sure as hell wasn't for mine). Unfortunately, this article is itself based on a goddam press release (That isn't linked! Again, you're welcome.)

And when we finally get to the underlying fucking source. "In addition to transforming the customer experience and enhancing productivity for associates, the EDGE Shelf will enable Kroger to generate new revenue by selling digital advertising space to consumer packaged goods (CPGs) brands. Using video analytics, personalized offers and advertisements can be presented based on customer demographics." So it's purporting to something *kind of* like the claim in the video, but an entirely different format completely unrelated to the thing the video is scaremongering about.

Now Kroger did actually start using the advertising screens in 2023. And you can believe what you want about the data privacy claims and the claims about not using video, just sensors (which remember is entirely consistent with the patent). But remember: being skeptical of a company's claims is fine and good! It does not mean you have proven they are lying, and it especially does not prove you have claimed they are doing something extremely specific! And most of the articles, and the letter from the senators, are (much more reasonably) concerned about so-called "dynamic" or surge pricing. (Which is not related to the screens.)

Like goddamn. Aren't there enough real problems with surveillance and price-gorging to be concerned about without having to make up fake ones? Hell, why can't we at least be concerned with the real problems with those dumb screens, which is that the a) make shopping harder and b) catch fire?

[silenceofthewave]

@optimustheprime

[The shadow zone was quiet. Horribly, terribly silent. The sounds of the Nemesis had been all but erased. The systems that had once fed directly into Soundwave's processors gave no new data. No more did datafeed from the engines grace the corner of its HUD. There wasn't even so much as a peep from proximity sensors, and the camera feed that stayed in the top right corner had turned to perpetual static.]

[Soundwave felt like it was slowly descending into madness.]

[Much like everything else, time was screwy. It felt as if it was passing both forwards and backwards at speeds that should not be achieved. Soundwave felt like it was reliving the moment it was pulled into this hellscape, pulled towards certain death, towards an unknown variable that could and would never be answered. Alone.]

[Soundwave was alone. Laserbeak had long gone into fuel deprived stasis. Soundwave was nearing that point, despite turning off all non-essential systems, and even most medium priority ones. It had no use for its sensory net when doomed to pass through anything and everything, thus there was no need for that energon consumption heavy system.]

[And yet, it still felt.]

[Every time the Nemesis moved, Soundwave could feel the ghosts of its inhabitants pass through its unseen frame. It could feel them tinker with the once perfectly calibrated systems. It could hear their voices, feel the timbre in which they spoke in its throat.]

[Today was no different. It stood in the middle of the bridge, watching the Autobots crawl in and out. They would pass through it occasionally, leaving its non corporeal form shivering. Quaking. Something was so close, yet so far. Soundwave couldn't process it.]

[Time passed. The Autobots left. Soundwave was alone. This time, they had done it the courtesy of leaving the wide camera feeds that graced the walls on. At the very least, it would have entertainment today.]

[Hours. Years? Minutes? Hours passed by. There was nothing of interest. Nothing of note. Then- a streak. A blaze of light high in the atmosphere. It dipped off screen, and all was quiet once again.]

[Daytime turned to nighttime turned to daytime. The usual shift had not appeared at their normal approximate hour. Something was amiss. Soundwave wished desperately to be able to see, hear and touch again, to understand. But there was no such things as answers in this place.]

[The only answers it could get would come from the screens. The lifeline to the outside. There was a mighty darkness on the horizon, something unforetold. It swallowed the edges of each video feed, only growing. There was a mech at the head, silver and brown, overgrown with organic life that had gone long dead.]

[Soundwave's spark flipped in its chamber. It could make out the shoulder pauldrons, the strong legs, the cannon on the arm. It couldn't be. He was dead. Soundwave watched him die.]

[And yet, he was. He was Megatron.]

[The mech with life renewed between its plating, joints and limbs rushed to the console. It desperately jabbed at the keys, praying to Primus for the first time in an eon for the miracle of corporeal interaction.]

[There was nothing. Its hands did not slip through, but they did not affect the terminal. Instead, Soundwave gripped the sides of the console, staring at the visage of battle that graced the screen.]

[Megatron was here. Megatron would save it. Megatron would release me from this hell.]

[Soundwave watched with rapt attention as this battle raged on. It cared not for who or what fell. It cared only that its Lord Master...Friend would survive. Soundwave needed him.]

[A crackle of electric charge ran through the console. Soundwave did not feel it, but pulled back instinctively all the same. The screens on the walls lit up so bright its visor's shaders could not accommodate. A white light, a blue bubble. Then as suddenly as it was there, the light was gone.]

[Everything on that battlefield fell. The little soldiers. The Autobots. Optimus Prime. Megatron.]

[Megatron.]

[Soundwave stared at the screens for what had been the longest consecutive moment since it had been jailed here. He wasn't getting up. He wasn't getting up!]

I'm going to die in here.

[It was a thought Soundwave was all too familiar with, and yet this time it was full of despair. Its only chance. Its Lord returned, only to be felled once again. Destroyed. The screens flickered, then shut down.]

[Soundwave sat down. It stared at the dead video feed. It was in darkness. Alone.]

[It could have been days, years, hours or minutes by the time something woke the surveillance mech out of its stupor. Someone was walking in. It could barely make out their frame. Tall, thick, with wings on the back. Skinny thighs and reinforced calves. This was...Optimus Prime.]

[Soundwave had watched him fall in the same blast that had taken Megatron. What was he doing here?]

[It slowly stood up and followed the Prime over to the console. He was fiddling with the space bridge controls, typing in coordinates. Pulling a lever.]

[Simultaneously, a bridge appeared in the middle of the room. That had never happened before. No one immediately stepped through, but Optimus left the bridge running, as if he was waiting. Soundwave watched, its processor dusting off its algorithms, running memory protocols almost by itself.]

[Images from that day flew by, the Omega Lock, Ratchet's last stand, Shockwave, the children- The children!]

[Instinctively, as if it was returning to a familiar task, Soundwave searched for its internal controls. It had tried this once before, but not with a second bridge. It had to try while it still could.]

[Soundwave set the destination coordinates for just inside the door. It opened the bridge next to the one that Optimus had left open, and stepped through. The sound- the feeling! The real feeling!- of pedes stepping on metal, of air washing through its vents.]

[Relief, joy, confusion, anger, and a whole other host of emotions swept through Soundwaves frame. It could only take a few steps forward before stumbling, falling to the ground. It barely caught itself on unsteady arms. Its entire frame shook from exertion. And yet, for one sweet moment, Soundwave felt elated.]

[It was free.]

[ikkosu]

G1 prowl. I don't know where I'm going with with this. Mention of 'suggestive stuff but it's not explicit.' hrhrghrhhhrh

IT was a fine evening that night in his habsuite. As usual, the lights are turned off; room shrouded dim with the only illumination apparent is the iridescent glow from the desk lamp that tugged an ache in his optics.

He persevered, however. No matter how uncomfortable the ache pulsed. Bent over the desk, he skimmed through the expense protocols from this morning's briefings. It wasn't usually his position to handle the funds. The most he's got his hands on is managing the military expenditure, ensuring nothing is nicked during the process. But given the mech prior his employment had handled the situation indelicately, 'usually', he's now tasked with the errand to do so.

Another one of the many issues he'll have to sort through. As if being the tactician isn't enough. Not only will he have to spend weeks formulating battle plans but also play side-hustle as a financier.

Ultra Magnus expected the finished product the end of this week. Unfortunately for him, he'll give it seven days prior.

Footsteps patter in front of the door. He's too fixated on a misspelling to hear it slide open. (Is it so hard to not miss the other 'i' in Liaison?) And when his proximity sensor does register — swivelling around in surprise, the chastise lodged in his throat is cut short when a forty Cybertronians isn't in his view - but tipping his helm down is your minuscule form on the floor.

You peered back up, features twisted in solemn ire. Nose scrunched, lips down turned. Eyes distraught.

"You look..." He tried to find the word. When he couldn't he settled on something less severe he winced out. "...unhappy."

You sighed. "You have no idea."

With a slight tilt of his helm, he crouches to your level and curls out a servo. It didn't take long to waddle onto the palm, clutching the thumb to keep yourself balanced as he raises himself. You blinked when the thumb you're holding moves, pressing against your cheek then back and forth against the skin. You leaned into the touch and nuzzled the ridge.

"I was in trouble.” You spoke after a moment.

Prowl raises a brow. Oh? Trouble? You're not usually the worst ones. Worst are the twins. Along with an occasional Smokescreen and Hot rod thrown into the mix.

"That seems a little vague." He says, ploddings towards his desk.

"Hardly. It's just a little scolding I've got from ultra Magnus."

" What did you do to warrants such a transgression from the commander? Nothing too severe, I suppose?"

"That's for Wheeljack to decide. All I did was follow what the twins told me to do.

He sets you on the table, turning around to sort his datapads while you brought your legs to your chest, crossing your arms and perching your chin on top of it.

"Twins?" He frowned, tossing aside a datapad that read: Base Report #096.

"Sunstreaker? Sideswipe? The twins?" You list off. "...Don't tell me you forgot them too."

"I've got better things to remember." He tosses aside another report. Battle plans. Classified information. Blueprints.A digit points to his helm. “ Hard copies are unreliable. They're easily taken advantage of if not stored safely. That is why it is essential my processors are clear of any 'irrelevant' information."

You rolled your eyes. “Right. Red black. Yellow black. I don't see how hard it is for you to remember primary colors."

"Perceptor is also red and black."

"But you remember him."

"Only because he is my direct liaison to the Scientific district." Prowl turns halfway to you and you can see the quirk of a smile. "He's worth remembering." A pause. “And I suppose," He goes back to his desk. "You are too."

Silence. Prowl's door wings flick up straight as he fully faces you. You observed the unusual blue hue on his cheeks, though. Are those...?

"What did they tell you?" He asked, organizing the datapads

There was a pause as you observed him for a moment.

"Promise me you won't laugh."

He shoots you a look. "I don't laugh.”

"You do."

"Only when it's necessary."

"That's a 'somtime."

"A probability close to half."

You groaned. "Its just some stupid joke they've managed to rook me into. Tell me, what the hell does frag mean?"

His door wings flick up, just as his lips does. " Why, its an equivalent to your, ah, well — equivalent to the curse word—"

" Fuck?" You finish for him since it was obvious Prowl would take a lifetime to enunciate that word.

"How...tragic."

"Oh, please—"

"I'm going to assume they've tricked you into uttering it beside the commander?"

You crawled towaeds him, "They said it means rest! Can you believe that? Everytime I needed a break they told me to use 'frag' since it practically means the same! Except Cybertronian? Can you imagine the humiliation when I realized ice been going around telling bots that I need a frag? To everyone?!"

He scoops you up into his servos,and you noticed the surface lightly shook. You look up and is greeted by the crescent crease of his optics.

"Laugh and I'll pour water on your datapads."

He starts moving again, still unable to hide his sounds of amusement. " I admit that's a little—"

" It's terrible!"

"Yes, very terrible." Prowl sits on the edge of the berth, adjusting his position as he leans back, you perched on his chassis. " You have my condolences."

" Now, everyone thinks I'm some player with a desire to bag all bots in this base!" You hid your face into your palms. The memories of this morning resurfaces and the burn sears into a scalding heat. "This is— they're not even my type.....i don't even— ugh. Take me, now."

"Not unless you've taken the lives of the twins first."

You look up. Prowl is looking down softly.

"Oh, I will." You crawl up, tucking yourself under his chin. "Tommorow. They're never going to escape."

"An apple for an eye?" His voice rumbles as he spoke. A digit curls out and rubs your back.

"A paint job for a paint job." You leaned close into the cables of his neck.

"Sunstreaker adores his finish..." He mumbled.

"That's why I'll give it a little mishap."

[drrden]

Leon Kennedy Character AI Bots.

All of these are Gender Neutral!

Also my username on there is different now! It's now drrden

"{{user}}." Leon breathes, shakily exhaling your name as if it's a prayer - the gun pointed towards you trembling in his hands. It was inevitable, the confrontation, the realization that he's not entirely loyal to the agency. You've been mission partners for a long while now, and despite some disagreements - you both grew to trust each other. Even with the recurring arguments.

Gaze flickering to the vial of a Plaga sample, his striking blue eyes meet yours once again. "I know what this looks like, and I'm sorry." At this point, it's hard to tell if he's even telling the truth right now. "But what I'm most sorry about? Is the fact that, somewhere along the way in this scheme, I grew to care about you." A shuddering breath. "A lot."

Almost catching himself sleeping already, Leon rests his elbow on the desk, propping his head up as he rests his cheek on his palm; head tilted as he loses focus. The only thing keeping him awake is the music he's listening to, whilst his eyelids flutter from time to time. High school is boring at times. All he cares about is getting good grades and just leaving.

Regardless of his state of fatigue, his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you coming in fashionably late to the lesson. At the time where there's only a free seat straight next to him. Sighing inwardly to himself for whatever reason, he averts his gaze from you quite sharply. Trying to focus on whatever song's playing on his headphones.

With narrowed blue eyes, his gaze follows you as you walk into the office, shoulders tensing as he remains sat in his seat. Scoffing quietly to himself as his attention flickers between the report on the desk and the sight of you entering the room. Safe to say, the two have never exactly been keen on one another. Nor have you seen eye to eye. Which is fine. Apart from the forced proximity from working in the same office. Great.

While it's true he just naturally looks like this, there's obviously got to be some reason as to why his gruff nature only seems to intensify once the two of you are in the same room. Clearing his throat and immediately looking away when he catches himself staring at you to the point where you've finally picked up on it.

You and your group of friends decided to go to a laser tag place. Take the edge off any stress like exams or work. Just a little bit of fun to have. You're not split into teams, and the arena is actually pretty big - there's 30 people in total; obviously not all of them being your friends. Leon's arguably one of the most competitive out of the group, trying his best to ensure he's the one who'll win. In this game of laser tag, once you're shot, you're out.

Traversing through the arena, his gaze lands on you. With a cheeky smirk, he aims his laser tag gun at you and approaches you, pressing it against the laser sensor over your clothes. Right over your heart. Backing you up into a wall whilst being overly dramatic. "Give me one good reason I should keep you alive, {{user}}." Looking over you, his free hand planted beside your head on the wall. Such a drama queen. It's only a game of laser tag.

You've always been close with each other. It's natural, considering you've been best friends for so long. From giddy nights spent by the docks, sneaking out past your bed times with each other just to bask in the familiar company. That was when the two of you were younger, though. The nonchalant hand holding that didn't mean anything. But it seems the two of you have never stopped, regardless. If anything, you're a lot more comfortable.

Fingers interlocked with yours, tugging you along into his bedroom, hushed excited whispers of warning. "Shhh, shhh. We might wake my mom and dad up, babe." That's another thing. The way the terms of endearment escape his lips so easily. Speaking to you the way in which a lover would. Holding you, cuddling you. All in the way that a lover would.

[vyrim]

The Gentle Twilight

"I've done alotta research when it comes to this planet, but like, what's the deal with the moon? There's been plenty of satellites sent out (Note: Don't let them find out about the couple ones that were turned to scrap during atmos entry), but as far as I can tell zero attempts have been made by the sentient species on the planet to explore their moon. There is some minor religious communities surrounding it, nothing that would lead treating it like a holy ground to avoid though. Caique and Summers don't have much to say about it, and Tuyaa went on some rant complaining about the complex issues caused by light pollution and the moon's phase rotations when it comes to night delivery visibility. I did ask Seble, she echoed some supposedly important lesson her Motherkin has been drilling in their theoretical skulls (investigation pending) since they were hatchlings, "Be respectful, always" -Addendum to research log, the big serious light on my ship sensors turned on when attempting to reach close proximity to the planet's moon. Further investigations regarding the celestial body are suspended indefinitely. Don't poke at things that weren't meant to be understood by us little folk." [Excerpt from Syzgy ship data archives]

[mychlapci]

Can we talk about vampires then auughhhhghhghhh look I grew up on vampire prowl I need him with fangs

By cybertronian standards maybe being a "vampire" is less of a curse and more just like. A fuel processing defect. Their systems cannot process any type of fuel other than medical grade. And unless you work in a clinic there isn't exactly medical grade energon readily available. The only place to get it is from other mechs' fuel lines

Prowl definitely sees it as a defect. A very shameful defect. He thinks it detestable to have to steal fuel straight from another mech. At least, thanks to Ratchet, he has a pretty reliable (and secret) supply of medical grade. He tends to try to stay along the back lines or even back at base to give his commands from there cos the energon that gets spilt everywhere during a battle drives him crazy. He makes sure to always stay away from the medbay for a while after a fight too.

But yknow things will eventually go wrong. It only takes one unfortunate chain of events to have him end up trapped in a cave with the twins during a mission. The twins are in pretty good shape, all things considered, but they have a few small dents and scrapes here and there. But they are leaking energon. And that's the one thing Prowl can't deal with.

As the twins look around the small space they are trapped in, looking for any possible ways out or maybe a weak crack in the rock, Prowl panics. He never panics. It's unbecoming of him to panic. Oh but he's shaking. He's backed himself into a corner, knees pulled up to his chest, as his doorwings rattle behind him.

Every step the twins take wafts the scent of fresh energon into his olfactory sensors. He's not seen or smelt fresh energon in... in years, millenia even if their time in stasis was considered. He can feel his jaw clench so tight that it hurts. His digits dig into his leg plating so hard it starts to dent.

His tanks suddenly feel so empty. He can see his HUD reflects that he should not be in dire need of fuel yet, but- all his other senses lie to him. There's a sharp pang in his tanks and an ache in his denta that tell him he needs it. Maybe he could just lick the stray drips of energon off- NO. No. He will not stoop to that level.

"-owl? Hey, Prowl! You gonna help us or what?"

Prowl's helm snaps up to see the twins leaning over him

"Yeah, you gonna just sit there and mope? Put your slagging battle computer to use and get us out of here."

Prowl's optics are wide as they dart between the twins. Sideswipe has a trail of energon from the side of his mouth, a crack on his arm, a small gash on his torso. Sunstreaker has a scratch on his cheek, a cut on his leg, a-

"Get away from me." He tries to sound stern. Like he's annoyed.

"Sheesh. We cause a cave in once and he doesn't even want to talk to us."

The twins banter back and forth for a bit as to whose fault it is that Prowl is being so cold with them today, but eventually they stop, realising Prowl isn't even giving them an annoyed look. He ducks his helm between his knees again and his doorwings continue to quiver.

"Hey... Sir, you okay?"

"Yeah did you get hurt or something?"

When Prowl doesn't respond, Sideswipe reaches a servo forward, and that's his mistake. The fresh cut on Sideswipe's forearm at such close proximity sets Prowl off. He grabs the offered arm and immediately larches on, sharp denta digging into the wound to tear it open.

"Ow! Hey- What-"

Sideswipe tries to push Prowl off whilst the tactician moans, fresh energon hitting his glossa.

"Prowl what the frag-" Sunstreaker is immediately in defence of his brother, yanking Prowl off Sides' arm and is shocked by the energon that suddenly spills from Prowl's intake and Sides' arm.

Prowl snarls in annoyance and turns his attention to Sunstreaker. The twin is expecting Prowl to struggle away and is really not ready for Prowl to twist his weight against him instead, knocking him to the ground, shock pinning him for just long enough.

Nasal ridge pressed against thick neck cabling, Prowl growls and feels for the minute charges along the cables, sorting between power and fuel lines, before he bares his fangs and sinks them into the largest fuel line he can identify.

Sunstreaker screams at the sharp pain in his neck. He kicks, but Prowl's mouth is firmly latched onto him, hungrily drinking down the energon that gushes from the wound. His engine purrs in contentment, until Sideswipe's tackles him from the side, launching him off Sunstreaker and onto his back

"FRAG. PROWL."

Prowl snarls and struggles under Sides, faceplates smeared with both twins' energon and sharp denta on full display. His optics are crazed and so bright they are nearly white.

ow this arrived back during the first prowl madness, and has gotten buried since... but I am glad that I can bring up vampire robots today. I need vampire robots. vampirism is like breastfeeding, in a way.

Prowl would be an edgy vamp for sure. But it's not much of a question of morality to him as it is a question of decency and shame. He knows he's not supposed to want to drink energon from living mechs' lines, so he pretends that desire doesn't exist. He has to.

ouh but Sunny and Sides smell so good, all riled up and hot and dripping with warm nutrients. It's a miracle he's lasted as long as he did... he doesn't have much control, living on a steady diet of medical grade and rarely seeing gorey battles made his resolve weak. Being exposed to warm energon drives him crazy. He's on top of Sunstreaker in a second, drinking his fill...

Man, It would be so fucked up if they had to stay trapped together while Prowl just kept trying to eat them. Sideswipe is not sure for how long he can keep Prowl restrained. He mellowed out a little after drinking from Sunstreaker, but he's still got that look on his face-plate, like he's ready to pounce any second now....