#when the function has kibble

[sightseertrespasser]

Odds of Survival part 9

Jazz has an itty bitty teeny weeny severe mental breakdown.

Credit once more to @keferon for starting this au.

———————————————————————

Jazz never thought he’d find himself deeply empathizing with the xenomorph from Alien, but here he was.

Doing freak shit.

A lone lifeform trapped on a spaceship with no idea how their technology works, no means of escape and no way to sustain themselves. Skittering across the ceiling and one wrong move away from murdering someone on contact.

Plus, I pop out of my mecha like an actual motherfucking chest burster. So I’m sure that’ll go over GREAT.

The parallels were compounding into existential crisis territory.

It got way too fucking close handling that checkup with the medic. Trying to keep his cool felt like he was trapped in an hours long quick time event. Every question had to be snap judged for the safest possible answer. Completely make shit up and risk getting caught in the act, don’t give away any information and they’ll know you’re hiding something.

Jazz juggled that damn Catch 22 like a professional. Thank you.

Case in point, while one of his mechas arms was still non functional, Jazz managed to maneuver his actual arm inside the cabin to grope around for some water to chug. Without disconnecting from the mecha.

That particular stunt felt like splitting his brain in half with a splintery wedge. The water was absolutely necessary, but the pressure inside his skull rang like an air horn zip-tied open.

Right now the only coherent thought he could form was the overwhelming animal desire to find a dark hidden hole and crawl up inside it. Then repeat that motion by disconnecting from his mecha, finding the most secure hiding spot inside that, and passing out for oh just a quick little 24 to 36 hours.

The pilot paused. Down the hall, mechas- giant alien robots- had noticed his disappearance. Even through the language barrier, Jazz would recognize the opening lyrics to his personal theme song anywhere: “Oh fuck where’d he go?”

Hidden behind rows of pipes, Jazz counted his inhalations until the thuds of metal feet passed him by.

Was the alien invader from The Thing scared? If it had finished building its spaceship would the Thing really have tried to take over the world? Or was it just desperate to go home?

Jazz was panting. Or maybe hyperventilating. He made a conscious effort to pull air through his grit teeth at an even flow. Even though he couldn’t actively feel his human body, the dull droning dread pressed through the disconnect to whisper “You’re running out of time.”

He didn’t know how long he had left before his stupid flesh sack would start giving out, but he needed to be somewhere safe when it happened. He’d make it. He’d make it because he had to to make it. He was the best goddamn pilot in the entire program and that was for one reason and one reason alone: Failure Was Not A Motherfucking Option.

If his options were do it the hard way or not at all, then the hard way was what the world got.

Once the guards passed, Jazz slunk along the wall, reaching upside down to fry another security pad, only for the door to open automatically.

Risking it, Jazz peaked into the room and not seeing or hearing anyone, slipped inside.

Once the door slid shut behind him, Jazz lowered himself to the ground one handed, scanning the room more thoroughly.

More screens, inactive. A chair and a couch. Miscellaneous wall kibbling, a table, cabinets. Windows.

Jazz gasped.

Glowing clouds of light, layered like sheets stretching into infinity. Star clusters like paint splatters on black velvet.

White and amber. A haze of something pink.

Unconsciously, Jazz moved towards the window, until he could lightly tap his visor against the glass. His field of view consumed by galaxies.

Back when they first launched him into space, Jazz had come to terms with the let down that all he’d get to see was a black slate and maybe a couple dots. The space station didn’t have many windows to start with, and all his space walks took place when the sun was “out”, so Jazz never really got to see as much of the Milky Way as his inner child hoped.

Now, the child was quiet. Face pressed against the glass, Jazz felt his throat closing up.

At least I got this. Even if I’ve got a half life, I got to see the stars the way they were meant to be.

He hovered. Wanting to find a song to match this moment, but couldn’t find anything more fitting than his own breathing. The rush of blood in his ears was still loud, but a white noise that could substitute for silence.

Like a marble rolling off a table, Jazz felt his stomach drop a moment before his conscious mind could follow.

“It’s wonderful isn’t it?”

Jazz had his arm cocked back to turn the poor fuckers face into a plate but locked himself mid swing at the last second. The mech had lifted a tablet to protect himself, and the move was such a Bullied Nerd cliche it stopped Jazz cold.

Now that his heart rate was breaking highway speed limits again, the angry radio static that was his racing thoughts drowned out any coherent thoughts of what to say.

The mech peeked out from behind the tablet and wow. That’s a guy. That’s just a straight up dude. Prowl and Elita were bulky enough that Jazz could at least imagine where a pilot could sit. But this guy? He looked like the only thing he could throw out was his back. Jazz didn’t even know “elderly twink” was a look possible for a giant robot.

Mystery Codger was staring at him. Jazz still had a fist raised.

Do something say something do something say something you fucked up you fucked up either kill him or start lying just do anything brain please.

“Could you help me find my glasses?”

Jazz faltered. “Wu- What?”

The mech uncurled from his brief defensive huddle. “My glasses? Spectacles? Ah, object-sight-improve-positive?”

The pistons in his arm faintly hissed as the tension released.

Maybe-

As if this was all normal, the mech gently set the tablet on the table, before squatting and squinting at the floor.

Maybe I just have actual brain damage.

Acting on mental autopilot, Jazz took the opening to behave like a normal person. Crouching and scanning the floor for giant alien robot spectacles.

“My name is Rung by the way. I actually don’t think we’ve met previously.” Rung said that last bit with an odd inflection Jazz didn’t have the brain power to think about.

“Jazz. We definitely haven’t met.” He couldn’t quite keep the exhaustion from making that last bit come out snippy.

Rung simply hummed and continued his search. For his part, Jazz was taking the moment to center himself, preparing the best mask he could on short notice.

How long could he keep faking it? Prowl had been with him since he woke up and he didn’t show any signs of needing to sleep. They had doctors. Prowl cared enough about his “health” to take him to one. If Jazz collapsed in front of anyone, they’d drag his sorry ass back to the medbay and it’d be game over. He couldn’t just ask for a place to crash or else he ran the risk of tipping them off he wasn’t one of them if they really didn’t sleep.

A faint tapping sound made him twitch in his stupor.

“Now where could the blasted thing have gone.” Rung was sat crossed legged on the ground.

With Jazz. Who’d vaguely crumbled into a kneeling ball under a table.

Jazz stared at Rung tapping his glasses against his chin. The orange mech made eye contact, and Jazz swore to god he caught him smile.

He reached out a hand, pointing, “Found ‘em.”

The smile came to fruition. Rung aha-ed and held his glasses before himself, inspecting them fondly.

“All that trouble for such a small problem. And all I needed was to ask for help.”

Jazz let himself sag slightly against the wall. Dully thudding the back of his head. “Okay. I’ll cop that was a good trick.”

“It did pull you out of your spiral didn’t it?” Rung said sounding way too smug. He pulled a cloth out from where-ever-the-fuck and cleaned his glasses with it.

He’d been seeing these mechs pull out and disappear objects all day like a bunch of Looney Toons characters. That kind of lapse in logic didn’t bode well for Jazz’s mental condition.

He let his eyes close, rationing his remaining focus.

“How’d you know that’d work?” He mumbled.

“You seemed afraid. You stalled out when you saw I was afraid.” Rung simply stated before he then asked rhetorically, “You’re a protector aren’t you?”

Jazz made a noncommittal sound. Lying was his first impulse, but he really didn’t feel like giving this guy more material to hook him with.

The mech laughed once anyways, “You are. Unorthodox too. I can see why you have such a hold over Prowl.”

That got his attention, “I do?”

“Oh yes.” He heard Rung shift into a more comfortable position on the floor. “Even if he can’t recognize the feeling anymore, I think you give him hope.”

Jazz wanted to laugh and he would if he had the energy.

Instead Jazz sighed. “I’m kinda at rock bottom right now man. And currently? Lil bit fresh outta hope myself.”

And ideas.

Jazz was of the opinion that any problem was solvable if you were willing to get crazy enough, but this was like trying to solve treading water a million miles from shore with only sharks for company. He either drown slowly or get torn apart the moment the sharks realized he was there.

“Hopeless mechs don’t stop to stare at the stars in wonder, Jazz.” When he opened his eyes, Jazz saw Rung staring him down like he was insulted. “To be hopeless is to let yourself die. Do you intend to die today?”

“No.” He challenged back, body minutely tensing.

“Are you willing to do absolutely anything to keep living?” Rung poked him in the chest.

“Yes.” He responded just as quickly, but there was a rasp to his voice. Something small and quiet. Not easily caught. Not easily killed.

“Even ask for help?” Rung quirked his head at him, shit eating grin growing by the second.

Jazz deflated, groaning loud enough for his mecha’s speakers to vibrate his bones.

“Look, I appreciate the therapy session doc, but asking for help is legitimately not an option for me right now.”

Rung leaned forward, resting his chin on a servo, “Alright then. List your current alternative options that you alone can accomplish, devoid of any assistance whatsoever.”

Jazz didn’t respond.

The silence continued to linger.

“Go on.” Rung gestured.

Cornered, Jazz could feel his horns pin back and a burning sensation in his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his visor even though it didn’t actually help.

“Where’s Prowl?”

Rung chuckled, victorious. The scrawny orange mech scooted out from under the table and stood, offering a servo to Jazz to do the same.

The brief rest left Jazz jelly limbed, which was evidently bad enough to translate to a faint tremble in his mecha. Despite that, Jazz didn’t take Rungs hand because there’s no way in hell that guy could support him if he fell. Elita’s threat over harming her crew was still fresh and shiny in his mind.

“You’ll find his office down that way.” Rung pointed out the direction. “Down the hall, turn left at the first junction, pass by two more doors, turn right at that junction and then keep walking until you reach the end of the hall. His office isn’t labeled but I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

Rung opened the door and then took a seat in the chair next to the couch. “I’d offer to have Prowl come to meet you here, but I have another appointment coming up shortly.”

Oh uh. He actually is a therapist.

Jazz laughed humorlessly, “Why not invite them to join the party? Make it a group session.”

Avoiding eye contact, Rung fiddled with a stylus, “Ah, that would not do I’m afraid. My next patient recently figured out how to “bite” people by quickly jabbing his helm forward and I’d rather that not be your first encounter with him.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Jazz simply nodded numbly.

He paused at the doorway, running the directions through his head again, before turning back slightly. “Hey Rung? Thanks.”

“It’s Rung, and you’re… welcome?” The mech trailed off, looking at Jazz with surprise as the door slid shut behind him.

Walking away, Jazz got about thirty feet before realizing he couldn’t turn his head too quickly or else he’d start seeing double. Feeling the countdown drop into double digits, Jazz hurried along Rungs path.

And nearly crashed into another mech.

It had a head like an old school security camera, a single yellow camera lense cycling down to a pinprick at his appearance. The chassis was crazy long and pointed. Out of habit, Jazz tried mapping out what the interior would look like. The pilot seat would need to be horizontal but it was pretty doable. The limbs were definitely on the skinny side but sharp and fast looking. Bonus points for what was definitely front mounted guns.

All in all, solid design. 7/10.

“Hey.” The mech rasped.

Oh fuck right, Alien.

“Sup.” Jazz replied eloquently.

The camera lense eye loosed, upgrading to a coin sized pupil and clearly looking him over.

“Empurata?” The mech said casually pointing to his legs and visor.

“Uh, sure.” Jazz shrugged.

“Same.” Nodded camera-head.

“Cool.”

The two of them awkwardly stood in the hall. Camera-head seemed content to block traffic and Jazz was mentally banging rocks together in hopes of getting a spark of intelligent thought.

“Can I peel off your visor with a knife?”

The mech held a dagger pinched between its crab claws and Jazz had to bite his tongue not to ask why it didn’t just use those.

Instead, the brain rocks came through.

“Rung lost his glasses.” Jazz threw up a thumb, gesturing over his shoulder. “Needs help. Now.”

Good job brain rocks.

“What? He does?” The mechs head popped up like some kind of fucked up goose, before shoving past Jazz, knocking him into the wall.

“HOLD ON DOC I’M COMING!”

The mech folded inside out into a mother fucking helicopter?! Charging down the hall in a whirlwind so strong Jazz could feel it through his mecha.

Jazz counted to five, and crawled back up into the safety of the ceiling pipes.

He blinks, and he’s staring down another hall. Left turn, two doors, right turn. . . Wait. Was that a right or left he just did? He’s upside down so everything should be reversed right?

He doesn’t remember blinking but the hall is at a different angle. New hall? Or did he just turn his head?

Jazz wants to press the heels of his palms into his eyes until everything holds still but he can’t. So he keeps moving. Keeps hiding.

And then he sees the most beautiful goddamn mech in the universe marching down the hall. Followed by half a dozen substantially less impressive mechs with guns drawn.

Stilling, Jazz remained hidden behind the pipes. Evidently alien robots had the same peripheral blindness to ceilings that human security guards did, as none of them noticed him.

Except for Prowl.

Through the gaps, Jazz watched as Prowl gave rapid fire orders to the armed soldiers behind him. Six mechs. Six guns. Three too many for Jazz to take in his current state. Prowl went silent and his wings twitched. Shivering, Jazz got the deeply uncanny sense he was being intimately observed.

The lights were ringing in a tinnitus B flat. He had the audio feed from his mecha dialed way too high but he couldn’t afford to miss any detail of what would happen next.

Whatever Prowl was said next, it must have been in his native language. Which Jazz found deeply unfair after all the work he’d put into learning Common.

The black and white mech turned to his cohort, waving them down the hall ahead of them. Prowl did not follow, wings still minutely shifting position. Once they were out of sight, Prowl turned on his heel back the way he came. Flicking a single piercing look to Jazz.

Silently. Shakily. Jazz skulked along the shadows after him.

He mental map was fucked. Every time he blinked, Jazz lost track of the most recent few seconds of his life. If Prowl wasn’t stopping every fifty feet to not-so-subtly check that Jazz was still following him, the human didn’t know where he’d end up.

Finally, Prowl reached a door at the end of a hall and entered without any delay. Jazz dropped, moving inside before the door could close again.

“Please don’t freak out.” Jazz cut him off before Prowl could set the tone of this conversation. The mech closed his mouth and after a moment’s consideration, assumed a tense but mostly neutral stance.

“I will not ‘freak out’.” Prowl looked like wanted to say more, but Jazz couldn’t afford that right now.

“Awesome! Because right now I’m freaking out and I won’t be able to keep it together if you start freaking out too.” He was pacing back and forth, not really seeing the mech beside him anymore.

“Jazz.” A servo caught his elbow, stopping him in place. “Where have you been?”

“Oh you know. Here. There. Ceiling mostly. Shockingly unrelated, but I think a talking helicopter wants to wear my face as a hat.” Jazz nodded way too enthusiastically in a manner he hoped translated into an appropriately manic “Please god help me.” grit toothed grin.

Prowl was momentarily speechless before physically shaking off the latest deluge of confusion, “That sounds like Whirl. You would not have encountered them had you stayed in the med bay like you were supposed to. Now I’m asking you again: What are you doing and why are you doing it?”

Audibly cracking, Jazz tried to answer honestly but found his voice locked up. He couldn’t, why couldn’t he..? Why was talking suddenly so fucking hard?

Meanwhile, Prowl just looked defeated. He rubbed that spot between his eyes, not yet letting him go.

“If you cannot provide a reasonable explanation for your sudden shift in behavior, I will have to assume the worst. You leave me no choice but to-“

“I’M REALLY SHORT.” Great. Fantastic. Incredible work brain. Take five.

Prowls optics flickered. Brow furrowing as he looked up at Jazz’s clearly taller mecha.

“That’s not- I mean-.” Jazz clasped his head in his hands, switching back to English. “{I- I- don’t know if this is even real.}”

Something was gripping his arms. Black and white appeared in his vision. “Jazz, please. I can’t help you if I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Common was easy to learn but right now it felt like Jazz was playing Scrabble with a bad hand.

“Prowl, where do you go when you- when you change-body-shape?” He had to stop to breath midway.

Please, please, please this is the last chance for anything to make sense.

But instead the mech slowly shook his head in disbelief, “Where do I..? Nowhere Jazz, it’s still me, I’m not ‘going’ anywhere. My alt form is not a different person.”

The mech gently pulled Jazz’s hands off his head from where he’d been stressing the damage from earlier. “I understand if you’ve never seen an alt mode before but your behavior, your questions, they’re not making any sense.”

Prowl stopped. Optics going wide as placed his servos on Jazz’s wrists. “Jazz are you Crashing?!”

“What? What is that what you call a mental breakdown? Cause yeah I’m having one of those.” He said a little too breathlessly.

“Sit-“ Prowl pulled him down to the floor. “Sit down. I’m calling for a medic.”

“No!” Desperately, Jazz grabbed onto Prowl who was helpless but to join him on the floor. The floodgates opened and Jazz couldn’t stop.

“No no no no, please god no. They’re gonna find out. I need to to tell you. I need to tell you myself. Just, please I’m begging you don’t do it. Give me a chance. Just give me a chance to explain, I don’t want to wake up on a table, please Prowler.”

For his part, Prowl was handling the situation as well as to be expected. He didn’t try to leave again but did get into a more comfortable kneeling position next to the panicking mecha.

“Alright. Alright, I won’t leave. Speak.”

Jazz tried tapping an alternating rhythm on the floor, giving himself literally anything else to focus on. He swallowed back bile and his thrashing fight or flight instincts.

“I’m not-“ Jazz grit his teeth. Telling the truth felt like trying to pop a dislocation back into place. Actually no. Jazz had done that before and it had felt infinitely less unnatural than what he was trying to do now.

Prowl was patient. Bless his heart, motor, whatever he’s got in there. Remaining silent beside him.

The pilot forced himself to take complete breaths, “l. Am not. The same. As you.” One, one two, one two, one two, Jazz counted in time.

“I noticed.” Prowl stated flatly, then softening his expression, “You hadn’t realized you were an alien until now, didn’t you?”

Jazz laughed a little too hysterically, “No, no I Fraggin’ did not. Please don’t freak out.”

“Jazz, you are hardly the first alien species I’ve ever encountered. At least you actually look like a person.”

The pilot got very, very quiet.

“Prowl, what do you think of organics.” Resolutely, Jazz stared down the floor panels, refusing to look anywhere else.

Momentarily, Prowl opened his mouth to speak and shut it again. He shifted to kneel in front of Jazz. Sharp optics darting across his frame. Lightly, Jazz could feel him trace something along his undamaged shoulder. He shivered against his will.

“Jazz.” Prowl got down to where he had to look at him. He spoke so, so softly, “Were you created by organics?”

Well, when a mommy human and a daddy human love each other very much…

“You could say that.” Jazz rasped instead.

He hadn’t even moved, but the energy in the air just went burning cold. Prowl went from soft to deathly serious so fast Jazz visibly flinched.

“Listen to me. You do not have to go back. You do not ever have to go back. I swear on everything I stand for I will not let another one of those things anywhere near you again.” Unintentionally, Prowl was crowding into his space.

Despite himself, Jazz just kept drawing himself in smaller and smaller as Prowl closed in.

“No no no no you don’t get it, that’s not what I meant. That’s not what I am!” He started quiet and steadily grew in volume.

Prowl wasn’t getting it. Instead, raising his voice to match, “No you are wrong! You have a choice now! You aren’t just your function and you aren’t just something they made to die!”

He grabbed Prowl by the shoulders, shaking him, “I DID CHOSE THIS. I KNOW I’M GONNA DIE, BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M FUCKING TALKING ABOUT.”

“Then what ARE you talking about?!” He shouted back.

“I’M ONE OF THEM.” His microphone peaked, and his voice broke.

The quiet hurt. Anything that wasn’t numb hurt. He gulped down air and couldn’t keep more than one eyelid up at a time.

Prowl ground his jaw tightly, practically steaming from reeling back a sense of calm by force, “You are not shorter than me. You are not thinking straight. And You. Are not. An organic.”

Jazz only semi involuntarily rolled his eyes.

“Fuck it.”

He disconnected, and everything hit at once.

Vision went and came back out of focus and way too close. His ears were ringing too badly to hear the sound of his mecha’s chest plates opening, though he knew that they were.

Every fiber of muscle in his body was torn and screaming, he’d throw up later if he had the strength. Jazz did not so much stand as he did lift off the pilot seat and then buckle forward. The hard shell of his pilot suit saved his knee from getting gouged by the corner of the platform he was slipping off of.

That’s fine. He’d land on the steps.

Except, his mecha had been leaning forward hadn’t it?

Like a rag doll, over the edge he went. A huge and blurry and black shape rushing to meet him.

———————————————————————

Is Jazz capable of telling the truth when it’s to save his life? No.

Will he do it out of spite just to prove someone wrong? Yes.

Also, secret props to @somerandomcockroach for showing how fun Rung is to write.

Bonus bit, Prowl finally let his EM field loose far enough for Jazz to notice! It was bad.

-SSTP

[rabotimagines]

"First ILY" GN BOT Reader x Optimus, Jazz, Soundwave, Starscream

Summary: Who says "I love you" first in your relationship?

G1 Characters: Optimus, Jazz, Soundwave, Starscream

Genre/Theme: Romantic

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Notes: N/A

Optimus absolutely says it first. You mean so much to him, and his frame is so full to bursting with affection for you that he can't help himself. It would happen during a quiet moment between you two. Whether, it's when you bring him a cube of energon when he's overworking himself in his office and hasn't refueled yet. Or when you're in his habsuite on his berth laying against one another and softly talking.

The warmth swells in his chassis, and his spark throbs in response. Optimus closes the distance between the two of you and presses his helm gently against your own. His em field promptly tangles together with your own, and he offlines his optics, simply enjoying the encompassing feeling of you. "I love you." Optimus murmurs and enjoys the emotional flux in your field it causes.

If you say it back to him, Optimus chuckles and pulls you closer against his own frame. His em field warming somehow further against your own. If you don't say it back, he simply pulls back to online his optics with a smile that makes his optics crinkle. "Please don't forget that." He's not offended by any means. Optimus had said it for his sake after all.

-

Jazz, surprisingly, will not say it first. Don't get it twisted. Jazz does care about you- he cares about you a lot. He's never been this serious with another mech or femme before in his function. And Jazz is affectionate with you physically and verbally he just won't say... it. So it's completely up to you to break that particular boundary in your relationship.

So when those words come out of you directed at him- Jazz has to stop whatever he was doing to focus completely right on you. Oh- oh. Affection blooms across his chassis, and it's so strong, Jazz can feel his fuel tank bubble a touch over the heat of it. Jazz is closing whatever distance between you two in nano-klicks. Doesn't matter if he's across the room or if there's obstacles. Jazz is right in front of you almost immediately. And he grabs both sides of your face before yanking you into a kiss.

Once he breaks the kiss, Jazz grins, a laugh coming out of him. Before he rests his helm against your own, letting your optics meet his visor. "I love you too" Jazz finally lets himself tell you that. His servos are still cupping the sides of your faceplate, and his digits softly brush along your kibble. After that, Jazz is letting you know he loves you often, and he's not shy about it neither.

-

Soundwave says it first. It'll be one of the days he comes back from a mission utterly exhausted. And instead of his own habsuite, he detours to yours and lets himself in. Which is how he winds up on his back with his helm in your lap. You've got a datapad in one of your servos, and the other is absentmindedly tracing his kibble from his helm to his glass. Soundwave can feel your em field gently pressing against his own frame alongside your wandering digits.

And Soundwave can feel his own spark pulsing in time with when your field reaches out to trace along him. Your expression relaxed and unbothered as you stared at your datapad. And Soundwave realizes then and there that he does love you. "Love you..." He doesn't preamble he simply states it. And your optics widen, and your attention turns down towards him.

If you repeat it back to him, Soundwave can't stop his visor from brightening. Soundwave grunts, and one of his servos finds your own, and he intertwines his digits with your own. Before he holds your cupped servo against his glass. So it's resting right above his pulsing spark. If you don't say it back to him, Soundwaves genuinely worried he'd miscalculated in his tired state. Though, in all honesty, all you need to do is either keep petting his frame and or lean down to kiss him on the temple or mask. And his worry flattens back out just like that.

-

Starscream won't say it first, and there's no chance in pit he will ever say it first. In fact, when you end up saying it first, Starscream freezes and has to take a klick to process it. And something heavy settles under his canopy and directly under his throat. And Starscream feels like he's being choked by the saccharine sensation that's suddenly breached his armor.

And you're staring right at him, waiting for his move. So Starscream does what he always does when he's outmatched and outgunned.

Starscream runs.

It's a cycle and a half before you see him again- well before he shows up again. He didn't even greet you. He simply wrapped his arms around you from behind and pressed his chassis up against your back. And he speaks.

"Say it again." You can try to play dumb or not play along, but Starscream just repeats himself.

"Say it again." You can feel the heat tether in his tone, but he doesn't get louder than before. So you do. You tell him you love him again. Starscream's em field curls over your own frame. The flush of it seeps against the dips of your plating. You can feel Starscream's engines purring softly against your back. And you know it's as close to an apology you'd be getting from him.

[ckret2]

Are THEY in universe considered as dreamy and handsome as apparently tumblr users find THEM? If yes, does that have anything to do with how THEY won THEIR elections

VENDOR doesn't strike me as the type of person who feels beautiful or attractive; so I doubt THEY've received much of that kind of attention.

To organics, it probably depends on how much the viewer likes the aesthetics of 1950s kitchen appliances with woodgrain. But they still see THEM like an appliance. So THEIR visual appeal generally caps out at "would buy THEM for the break room; wouldn't invite THEM to the bedroom."

To other machines... I'm going by what's frequently portrayed as attractive in transformers fandom: and unfortunately, THEY've got no real points of articulation; no interesting function-related kibble (no tires, no wings, no treads); very few lights at all; lots of unpainted components in a utilitarian way... Plus I feel like most robots wouldn't be into woodgrain, y'know? It's quirky, but "sticking a banana sticker to your forehead" quirky, not "stylishly avant-garde" quirky.

THEY're probably some people's type (THEY're apparently some tumblr users' type), but not many people's type.

I see THEM as like, equivalent to a middle-aged woman who wears just enough makeup to be considered "acceptable" but has never taken pleasure in the process, and has always worn serious business suits with skirts or button-up shirts with slacks in order to be taken seriously, and keeps trying diets that never stick and whenever she vents about this to her friends they awkwardly reassure her that dieting is hard and it's fine when really she's longing to hear someone say "but you already look great" and feel like they aren't just saying it to be nice; and now she's past her prettiest youthful years but has realized she's never been made to feel beautiful, never made herself feel beautiful, and she's a serious businesswoman so she tells herself that that's frivolous and she shouldn't care but she does care, and it's not shallow vanity to care, because all these years of not caring is a side-effect of viewing her body with an air of disdain and resentment for not being good enough and not being worth the effort to make it good enough; and so she buys a paisley shirt with bright green flowers that she thinks looks outrageous but actually really likes and hopes it will be the start of finally figuring out her style, and aside from the print it's still a respectful button up so surely it's professional enough to wear to work, and all her coworkers are like "wowww, that's... different" and she doesn't know if it's because the shirt's really that ugly on her or if they just aren't used to seeing her as the kind of person who can wear these shirts, when the truth is, they can just tell how deeply uncomfortable she is in this shirt, she doesn't know how to wear clothing she likes without being hyper self-conscious. She doesn't know how to make herself feel beautiful. But she wants to.

And that's why VENDOR got woodgrain paneling.

[earthstellar]

Just jolted awake at 5 AM to share this idea lmao:

Cosmic Storm: Accidental Alt-Mode Swap Scenario

Some kind of cosmic electrical storm hits the Lost Light and everyone switches alt-modes

They can't figure out how this is even possible, best they can figure is that one of the waves of cosmic electricity rolled over the ship and bypassed their shields enough to affect the crew, just this huge arc of space electricity scrambling everyone all at once

And as it arcs from crew member to crew member (and zaps the shit out of the ship too), somehow this messes with everyone's systems enough that their t-cogs all attempt to reboot while everyone is still connected by the cosmic storm energy

Which results in everyone's t-cogs getting alt-mode data confused, as everyone simultaneously tries to stabilise their systems by purging stored energy so they don't get fried, so because they're all connected by this singular pulse of space bullshit it's like one massive accidental transfer of spark energy, personal systems data, and cosmic electroshock

It's 5 AM sorry if I'm not explaining this very well LOL

But nobody dies, and their systems actually seem to be relatively OK afterwards as far as they can tell, so nobody actually realises there's a problem until First Aid and/or Ratchet asks everyone to book in follow up appointments for full systems checks just to be sure

And as part of checking t-cog function whoever the first patient of the day is gets asked to transform briefly as part of a physical exam designed to help spot any non-critical t-cog damage

And there's no t-cog damage, not to the t-cog itself. Scans come back okay, everything looks good, so OK, time to proceed with the transformation test. Root mode to alt-mode, and then back to root mode.

If the t-cog and associated systems are functional, it should be pretty straightforward.

And the bot does successfully transform...

..Just, into the wrong alt-mode.

And immediately, The Problem Of The Day becomes clear.

Gradually people around the ship figure it out on their own as well, while the Med Bay staff are trying to figure out what the fuck is going on

Over in the Science Lab, Perceptor is messaging Ratchet frantically because he's realised the problem as soon as he tried to switch into his alt-mode to study some samples of a metal panel from the ship which has some damage from the cosmic electricity and uh oh turns out he's a fucking helicopter now

It's a problem that also alters their root modes, but only after their first transformation post-space storm. Something fully triggers whatever is wrong with their t-cog data only once they enter alt-mode, their root modes then re-configure to accommodate these changes following that initial "wrong" transformation sequence.

They have their own colours, their paint nanites etc. remain the same as always, but their modes have changed. So they get any kibble etc. that might come with that new alt-mode.

So Brainstorm goes to pick up some energon for both of them, then comes back and Perceptor suddenly has rotors and holy shit

Eventually everyone on board figures out something weird/potentially bad is happening with their t-cogs. Some people are too scared to test it and find out, while others immediately can't resist their curiosity or think it's better to figure out as soon as possible so they can adapt, and test it as soon as they hear some bots are just turning into completely different things, totally reconfigured.

This could be fun, also sort of terrifying (there is potential for body horror to some degree), and either way it's chaos.

When Drift triggers his alt-mode, he turns into a cat-- Seems like he's got Ravage's t-cog data. Nobody can find Ravage, and Megatron makes it clear that he'll be the only one to attempt to find him.

Rodimus turns into some kind of aqueous vehicle. Maybe Camien in origin. (Turns out it's Nautica's t-cog data.) He's fine with it as soon as he realises he's space flight capable for short distances and Magnus has to talk him out of trying to race the ship.

Of course, because it's Nautica's t-cog data, when he reverts back to root mode, he has a distinctly femme Camien-style frame. He loves it, because his armour isn't as heavy in this form, so he can go faster. (Once this is all over, he is strongly considering keeping some of these femme frame alterations...)

And if you want to use this as a setup for any shipping, yes indeed, some bots inevitably try to test out their newly altered frames with their partners or amicas. (The medical staff all advise against this because oh god nobody knows all the functions of their new systems yet, please do not end up in the Med Bay with "makeout related injuries" they are dealing with so much right now LOL)

Anyway my moving date is 25/01 but as soon as I'm settled into my new place I might turn this into a fic if I have time lmao

[lets-try-some-writing]

Friendship and Intimacy

A slight update to my personal headcanon regarding Cybertronian habits and relationships, at least the physical stuff.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Even before the war, friendships have always had unspoken rules amongst Cybertronians. There are differences depending on city state, function, and caste. But as a general rule, Cybertronians follow the same sets of guidelines when it comes to close connections.

Unlike organics, Cybertronians do not biologically procreate. Yes, they are capable of cold forging and even creating new life from their own spark if they try hard enough. If they truly feel like fighting against the natural order, a Cybertronian can use technology to go through a similar process to create new life. However, as this is not a natural act and considering there is no biological function that allows for reproduction, there is no instinctual need to have close connections. Cybertronians will travel in groups instinctually if certain criteria are met, and they do have pack bonding abilities, to a limited extent. However, there is absolutely no immediate desire to touch one another, not even in the slightest. Touch is a dangerous thing. For a species that is all but functionally immortal, one of the only things that can effectively kill them is another of their kind.

Their coding recognizes this, and thus Cybertronians simply do not touch often. It is not even a high caste or an Iaconian exclusive mindset. All Cybertronians are not fond of being touched unless it is specifically agreed to by both parties. Touching is dangerous, especially with outliers and various frame types having unique abilities that can make touch even more dangerous on any given day. Generally speaking, the only places a mech is allowed to touch if absolutely required are the shoulders. This is due to the fact that the shoulders are one of the most armored locations on the body, and thus touching there can allow both parties to accomplish whatever must be done without invading the other's space more than required.

This makes friendship and interesting subject.

Touch, due to its rarity, has a great deal of symbolism behind it. Co-workers and acquaintances only touch the shoulders and strangers try not to touch at all. Cybertronians, even once they consider each other friends, can still remain at a distance physically for extended periods of time. But eventually, a sign of trust will come into play through touch.

The closer two mechs are, the more touching is allowed. It always starts small, usually with the servos. It is completely normal for two individuals, regardless of weather their relationship is platonic or not, to hold hands. For them it is a show of trust. By limiting themselves to one arm each and allowing the tactile sensors on their digits to touch, they are expressing trust in the other and their belief that their counterpart will do them no harm.

Regardless of relationship type, individuals move from servos to other heavily armored parts of the other's frame when it comes to touch. It is completely normal for close friends to sit close enough to touch shoulders and legs. Rubbing each other's backs is widely accepted as another form of showing trust. Running digits along arm guards and messing with external kibble is all perfectly normal behavior. These things show the closeness of a pair, and usually the type of touches are unique to every single duo. Romantic partners may begin to get a tad more touchy during this phase, but platonic and familial relationships can do the same depending on the situation.

Usually companionships do not progress past this point of general body touching. Even familial relationships can remain in this limbo for vorns upon vorns if neither party feels comfortable making a move. This is largely because the next step is one that most cannot back out of. Protoform is the most sensitive and easily damaged part of a mech. In order to really show absolute trust, a pair must allow each other to have access to said protoform. This is when things can begin looking strange to other races.

Once a pair have moved to this phase of absolute trust, it isn't at all weird to see them behave in ways that would otherwise appear VERY scandalous to species that reproduce organically. Before the war, Megatron regularly stuck his digits into the gaps in Soundwave's hip plating to touch the protoform there. It wasn't romantic at all, merely a way of assuring that they trusted each other. Jazz was very comfortable sticking his servos into the gaps around Orion's vents to prove his loyalty. Ratchet wasn't all that much better and after so many vorns at war, it is totally normal for him and Optimus to be found in a strange cuddle pile with their limbs entangled and digits in places human would see as very much NOT appropriate.

Touching is a sign of trust, and by the Allspark humans simply do not get it. They read everything WRONG when they catch bots interacting in similar ways. Optimus wrapping his arms around Bumblebee and resting his helm on Bee's shoulder is familial. Ratchet randomly sticking his digits into Optimus's hips is just a fact of life. Arcee periodically sticking her little claws into Bulkhead's various kibble is just their way of playing. Wheeljack and Bulkhead are extra open about being touchy. More than once June has ushered the children away when they get a bit too much for the adult humans in the room to be comfortable.

Touching is a way to bond. Nothing more, nothing less. Humans look and see things they shouldn't. Cybertronians witness a pair who are close enough to allow one another to come near their vital systems.

[mychlapci]

seekers are really communal frame types. it's actually part of the reason why they trine together; they're like rats or pigeons. a single seeker left alone to their own devices will often slip into depression without companionship. it's actually a big idea i have for my fan continuity.

i've seen people saying that vosians are prideful assholes and while i think that's true to some extent, i also think that they're just generally very focused on their communities. within my fan continuity, certain areas of cybertron lended themselves better to certain frame types. the areas that eventually became the region of vos were pitted by steep mountains and deep canyons so only those who could fly were able to properly settle there.

due to this, vos is a very flight oriented region. most cities there are built high into the atmosphere and rarely accommodate other frame types which has led to the stereotype that all vosians are vain and only care about themselves which is very much not true!

vos, in my fan continuity, isn't a single city. it's a name given to describe a specific region of cybertron that has similar topography, and language families (similar to how we call the middle east, the middle east even though there's a ton of different countries and cultures there)

vosians are generally some of the most outwardly friendly cybertronians due to the wingspeak that the region developed as their main form of communication. this language is allows for far more nuance but it's not something taught across cybertron so when vosian's speak common, their tones often come across as intensely snooty because they tend to be very blunt with their words.

seekers in particular are distinguished from other flight frames by their specific wing forms and general likeness to each other in terms of kibble placement and other such looks, are very community based, often forming massive neighborhoods and colonies of up to 120 seekers.

these colonies function just by the sheer feeling of community that shows up between those who are part of it. members often share, sleeping, cooking, bathing, and living spaces and it's not uncommon for multiple different trines to form massive poly relationships with each other just because of close proximity

this is also my explanation behind why the only air force we see in the decepticons are seekers. because they're so communal, it only made sense for them all to join the cons. not doing so would mean that one left behind might become extremely isolated and depressed from lack of contact.

seeker colonies are highly complex and often feature a single trine as the main leaders (in this case it would be the elite trine) but it can often vary from colony to colony. smaller ones might only have one trine in charge, but the bigger ones might have up to five which create a council of sorts to make decisions regarding the community

going back to the city structures of vos. it varies highly on the area but generally cities that are built high in the mountains tend to build outward around the mountain and then upward. so you'd see a lot of scaffolding around the lowest layers, just general structural support dug directly into the rock, while the upper most layers are connected by a series of bridges and pathways.

cities that built into the canyons of the region tend to be a lot more spread out, with chunkier buildings that better accommodate cybertronians of other frames. however it is consistent that vosian cities are built at high altitudes, feature heavy use of spiraling skyscrapers, and generally focused on flight frames and their specific needs. so lots of perches to land on, runways to take off from, and open aired buildings to allow for better weather predictions since some cities might be so high up that the upper layers stretch above the cloudline.

i have thoughts about the winglord thing in fandom. i think it's really interesting but i don't think it's a seeker specific thing.

so in terms of the winglord for this version of cybertron, i think it's a ceremonial term used to describe the winner of a ritual that determines who will lead the vosian region for the coming millennium regarding religious leadership. it's kinda like if the pope position got chosen by a fistfight. so like the winglord doesn't have any actual political power, but they do have a lot of religious influence

starscream in my continuity never actually becomes the winglord because of that reason. he's not particularly religious and because he specifically wants to join politics to get vos more focused on unifying with other cybertronian regions, he never participates in the winglord fights. however, sunstorm does

skywarp is a cartographer and his teleporting abilities allow him to get into unmapped spaces without too much trouble. which is very useful since vos' topography does not lend itself well to scanning devices because of the unpredictability of the weather. the area is prone to sudden and very random tornadoes because of it's mountainous landscape and it's actually part of the reason why vosian cities are designed the way they are. they're built most commonly in the areas that avoid the paths of the tornadoes

once again this ask is getting out of hand so i'm going to cap it off on that

aaaaaa i can't believe it took me so long to get to this ask, this is literally the coolest thing ever. Though i might be biased because I have... well, not exactly a continuity, more like... it's flashes and, uh, images, in my head, barely headcanons, and they're not always nearly as pregnancy-based as i led everyone to believe. And in these barely-headcanons, i am a sucker for, first of all, the cybertronian "cities" being more akin to areas or states with more cities within, and second of all your idea of seeker communal society kind of reminds me of the way that the roman kingdom operated, and i looove to get inspired by rome for my cybertronian worldbuilding. mostly because rome was very fucked up and cybertron needs to be as well.

and yeah, the winglord thing, i do feel like it's possible that every city/state on cybertron would have a high ranking official that is technically "in charge" and vosnians simply call it a winglord, but it's not exclusive to them. sorry just the political arrangement of cybertron is so interesting to me, no.1 favourite thing to think about. it probably depends on the "area" but the official can be only religious in nature or fully tyrannical or anywhere in between. again, sorry, i have to stop thinking about this.

in love with your mind, i love communal fliers. i know people can get weird about seekers and trines but i love it when it's simply a cultural difference.

[first-of-the-next]

Hall of Records: Newspark Formation Types

Forged - Kindled - Well Sparked - Sigma Sparked

Forged: those individuals who began as free-flying sparks from the Well, journeyed near and far across Cybertron, and found suitable places to sink into the metal ground, superheating it into molten hotspots. Limited records from bygone ages indicate this was the first and most common form of newspark formation at the dawn of the world, as it has become so again thanks to the revitalization of our planet since the War's ending.

“Wild mecha forged from natural hotspots almost always emerge with limited intellect, relying on the spark’s instincts and emotions rather than developing their processors for logic and higher thought. But, they also possess the added advantage of continued adaptation - as long as a forged spark remains in close proximity to their hotspot, they can keep returning to it before it cools to add more material onto their frame, growing bigger or developing extra kibble features..."

Kindled: those who began life not from the Well, as all other sparks do, but from an intimate exchange of energy between two or more fully matured individuals. If a suitable threshold is crossed, then one of these individuals captures and retains within their spark chamber a small crystalized cluster, which within a few orn begins to expand into its own self. The rate of maturation entirely depends on available energy from the kindled spark's host, either via consumed fuel, or further intimacy with the other involved party or parties. When the newspark reaches a point of self-sufficiency, it detaches, much in the same way countless others have detached from the Allspark. Unlike free-flying sparks, however, kindled beings must immediately be transferred into suitable proto-frames to have the slightest chance of survival.

(A brief note that it is entirely possible to install coding which prevents the buildup and retention of excess energy during intimate encounters, preventing the process of kindling. Such a thing was not common, but neither unheard of, in days gone by. During the War, however, mandates came down within both the Decepticon and Autobot forces, and even in Neutral refugee camps it became a requirement for entree to install said coding - the energy requirements to sustain a kindled spark to maturation were too high for anyone to bear...)

Well Sparked: in ancient days, when the Well was first discovered by early Cybertronians, a method was devised in which individuals could construct small frames of limited function and present them upon the sacred ground. More often than not, a free-flying spark passing by would take an interest, and settle into the empty chamber rather than go off to find suitable ground for a hotspot. These 'first frame' individuals begin life in a more robust form than their kindled counterparts, and while generally smaller and weaker than forged mechanisms, a fully mature Cybertronian stood ready and willing to take on the role of caretaker, until two or three frame upgrades could be enacted for more advanced systems.

"Kindled sparks required at least intimate partner to achieve, if not sets of three or four individuals, depending on their sizes and frametypes. To adopt and mentor a Forged being meant going out into the wilds and finding one willing to be guided into civilized society. For those who had no partners, or none they trusted, and no desire to risk life and limb in search of a hotspot, the Well of course seemed a divine and much-welcome option. In time, however, access to the sacred ground became harder to achieve, as noble-caste mecha lavished extravagant gifts upon the guardian priesthood for special treatment, and petitioners of lower rank and wealth more and more often found themselves turned away..."

Sigma Sparked: to die upon the metal and mineral of our homeworld is to return one's spark to Primus - or rather, to the repository known as Vector Sigma. This ancient and mystical archive stores the echoes of every spark to live and perish within the boundaries of its vast, planet-wide network. The particulars of 'how' remain unknown even to the most intensely curious of scholars, but one indisputable fact is clear: if one is to present a fully built and functional frame before Vector Sigma, requiring only a spark for life, then the ancient system will scan it, and provide a suitable inhabitant. Newsparks created in such a way retain no true memory of their former lives; only instinctual preference, and sometimes preserved fears.

For as long as Vector Sigma has been known, so too has existed the myth that insists any Cybertronian who dies elsewhere in the vast reaches of space is lost forever, their spark unable to return and be reborn from the ancient databanks. As it is impossible to fully scan the full extent of the Sigma archive, or necessarily recognize a spark within, this myth has never been proven. One curious deviation from the norm does exist, however, in the form of the Primes: those touched by Primus himself to guide and protect his children forever retain a connection to him, and also to Vector Sigma, able to remotely upload memories of their experiences no matter how far they travel across the cosmos...

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

Do you think cybertronians had like phases of beauty standards? Like in my au it goes like what most resembles their creator(very ornate) after that we got what's best for survival (primus does a sleep no new energon is made on the planet) then what's most functional (space travel their equivalent of the industrial revolution ornate ones and survivalists are seen as useless to their society) and as the war went on more militaristic frames were favored (because propaganda)

Oh, cybertronians definitely has beauty standards. If I remember correctly there have been multiple characters in canon that's been described as pretty or handsome. Like Thunderclash!

I like your different ideas of beauty as it seems like different eras. Like, the golden age with the ornate designs, the functional designs at the height of the functionists power and so on.

Personally, I think a few traits would remain attractive through all eras. Things like bright optics with vibrant colors, as pale optics with washed out colors are a sign of sickness and failing health. Bright colors in general are probably seen as attractive, since when they die, cybertronians turn grey. Then there's symmetry, since for an alt mode to work the frame kibble needs to placed correctly.

[pokemoncaretips]

The Falinks

A unique little fighting type with a huge personality.

General notes: While not the largest pokemon, the falinks is quite a scrapper, refusing to take any insult lying down.

General care: Though happy enough on general omnivore kibble, the falinks has very high calorific requirements, as even when not moving forward it is always stepping in place to maintain its uniform pace. It eats in a unique manner, passing a morsel of food down the line one by one until everyone has eaten one piece, then repeating the process.

The falinks is one of those unique pokemon where it has multiple units. Like a magneton or a tandemous, each individual unit is classed as part of the same pokemon. They cannot function without each other. The main unit is called the Brass, and functions as the "brains" of the main pokemon. The elongated horn is a badge of office, a weapon and a means of issuing orders in one, using it to amplify the many whistles, squeaks and chatters that the others follow. The little shields are modified wings, useless for flight but with incredibly stiff and durable feathers that can deflect a fair amount.

Female falinks are quite prone to going broody, with each unit laying a small egg in a patch in the garden, and covering it with rotting plant matter, with the brass using her horn to test the temperature. They become highly aggressive during this phase, and will likely attack you if you get too close. If there's no male nearby, this means she will be exhausting herself over eggs that will never hatch. It's hard to break a broody phase, so providing shelter and food for when she wants them is all you can really do.

If they are fertile, when they hatch all of them are capable of becoming a brass, with the hatchlings squabbling over marching order. Once this is determined, they will hold that marching order their entire life. Once hatched, their mothers will not provide further care, and the young falinks is on its own.

A falinks is a stubborn pokemon, but otherwise isn't hard to care for, with an uncomplicated diet and a tough constitution. Care rating: Green

Training: Excellent battlers, this is the only time you'll see them breaking from a line formation. Battling is a vital part of their enrichment, and a bored falinks will pick fights with any pokemon that crosses its path.

Though otherwise willing to take orders, they have a tendency to decide they know otherwise, and may choose a different strategy than the one you order. In older and experienced falinks this may well be the better option, but for young and green ones...well, it tends to be sharply educational for them. Training rating: Green

Safety: Though not vicious, falinks react to perceived slights with some aggression. With a tendency to charge with its horn, trainers often wear shin guards around young and untrained falinks. Though this does lessen with age and experience. Safety rating: Orange

Overall ranking. This pokemon isn't a very good house pokemon, requiring battle to stay entertained. When allowed this outlet, though not the cuddliest, it's loyal and willing, and often enjoys just marching alongside you on a stroll. Not for everyone, but the people it is for are deeply passionate about this weird little fighting type.

[repining-seamonster]

Forgot What It Feels Like 1/3

SoundStar Transformers (a mix of G1/IDW/whatever else) Rating: teen+

Chapter One: Something Like Luck

     The first time Soundwave saw him was in dirty alleyway in Kaon in the dead of night. He was being thrown out the back door of a busy bar by two mechs twice his bulk, both of them scowling nastily; but they weren’t simply tossing out an unruly drunk.

     Soundwave has been watching the streets from the shadows of the alley, senses carefully opened just a fraction to get a feel for the mechs shambling by, searching, when the door had slammed out with a sudden cacophony of noise from inside.

     They didn’t notice him, too busy trying to wrangle a mech who was kicking them viciously and swiping at them with sharply pointed digits. Curses spewing from his intake, calling them all manner of creative insults so colorful that Soundwave couldn’t help but stare. Though their frame mass was larger by far, even the two of them seemed to struggle tossing the mech to the ground.

     He was very clearly over-charged. Despite this, he was doing an impressive job at clinging to their kibble whilst simultaneously trying to inflict as much damage as he could.

     With a final shout of,  “Don’t you fragging dare–!”, one of the mechs managed to pry him off the other with a screech of metal and throw him bodily against the wall of the adjacent building. Where his helm cracked against the weathered metal with a reverberating clang and he finally slumped, unmoving.

     Soundwave waited until the bar’s bouncers went back inside, sporting numerous scratches and dents, and the door slammed shut again. Relative quiet returned to the alley immediately.

     No one from the street even glanced over during the whole scene, no one caring to notice the mech except for him. And the first thing he noticed were wings.

     It was, after all, the entire reason he was out here.

     The second thing he took in, as he slowly and quietly approached, was exactly how out of place this mech looked. Flight frames weren’t terribly common in Kaon, a  seeker  even less so; and if that wasn’t enough, he was undoubtedly the cleanest mech in the city. Even slouched in a filthy back alley.

     The view in Kaon was dull, it’s populace included. This seeker, however, looked polished and bright. From sky-blue servos and thrusters, to his red and white bodywork. Not even the sickly yellow lighting from the street could make him look dull. 

     Though it might if he stayed for too long. There was no doubt in Soundwave’s mind that this mech was from somewhere else. Somewhere with well-kept infrastructure and easy access both basic needs and luxuries alike.

     What he was doing slag-faced in a decrepit bar in central Kaon, was a complete mystery. For now.

     He kneeled next to the unmoving frame, placing a careful hand on his helm and gingerly tilting it back to see if the mech was still functioning or if the blow had knocked his processor loose.

      In hindsight, after what he’d just witnessed, he should have taken more care to be cautious. For, while he prided himself on having a well-tuned reaction time, he barely managed to catch the servo of sharp digits as they struck out quickly for his neck cables.

     He was far more prepared for the second attempt with the other servo, and soon found himself being stared down by a pair of fiercely bright optics; holding both servos in a firm grip. He struggled, of course, Soundwave would have been more surprised had he not.

     Over-charged and still dizzy from the blow, the mech could only growl in frustration at first. Not seeming to remember how to work his glossa again quite yet. So Soundwave spoke first.

     “Cease.” He kept his tone flat, volume even, trying to convey in a single word that the seeker had nothing to fight him over. “Intention: not to harm.”

     “Like sla-a-a-a-ag, creep!”

     His voice box glitched profoundly. Though Soundwave made no comment on it, he felt a wash of humiliation trickle through the mech’s field. His expression morphed into something complicated,  a look of horror twisting into an indignant scowl.

     Soundwave had to in-vent deeply to keep himself centered, not letting the mech’s over-charged emotions overwhelm him.

     “Suggestion: reboot voice box.” This time, he even softened his tone, trying to convey an air of peace, hoping it would somewhat soothe the incensed seeker. “Intention: not to harm, true.”

     The seeker was still glaring at him, still trying to pull from his grasp. But Soundwave recognized the soft shutter and click of the reboot. He was hesitant, but this mech was clearly what Megatron would refer to as “scrappy”. He needed a way to calm him.

     It went against Soundwave’s better judgment, but he was lacking in options. So he looked the mech in his vibrant optics and gently reached out with his own field. Brushing it oh-so-carefully against the prickly field of the other, projecting his sincere will to simply help, not harm.

     The seeker’s expressional capabilities were as colorful as his insults, because his scowl vanished in a nano-second to be replaced but a stunned look of confusion.

     For a fraction of a second, his tightly guarded field shuddered, revealing a crack of unguarded emotion. Almost without meaning to, Soundwave found himself slipping through that crack.

     And what he felt on the other side wasn’t altogether unfamiliar to him. 

     There was agony in the seeker’s spark and mind. A deep hole of loss and fury swirling like a tornado born from the violent winds of a life spent being cast aside and trod on simply for being sparked as who he was.

     Soundwave wouldn’t pretend to understand the details of this mech’s unfortunate life; but he could, at the very least, empathize with his pain.

     The seeker had stopped struggling against his hold, Soundwave realized; staring at him with wide optics and a churning processor, trying to understand the strange sensation that had invaded him for just a moment.

     For an over-charged mech he was… surprisingly sharp. Had Soundwave been a less pragmatic mech, he’d almost think this meeting was fate.

     But he  was  a pragmatic mech, and he simply thanked his good fortune for finding exactly what Megatron had asked for so quickly.

     Now he need only to recruit him.

     However, Soundwave didn’t get the chance to even begin to introduce himself. For, as soon as he opened his intake, he was paused by a strange sensation himself. A tickle of electricity  growing in the air behind him, sparks of purple coalescing quickly into a crackle.

     A crackle that became a pop of spacial displacement. Again, Soundwave found himself quickly ducking to avoid the fist swinging hard for his helm.

     “Hands off!!”

     It was a moot command, Soundwave had already released the first seeker, rolling a few feet away and allowing the second seeker to overbalance himself with the force of his punch and land in his friend’s lap in a heap.

     He recovered quickly enough, turning around to raise his fists again in defense. Wings flared behind him in a clear threat display, hiding his friend from Soundwave’s view. Over-charge had him wobbling but still valiantly defiant, ready for a fight.

     Soundwave raised both servos slowly in a clear display of peace. Though he hated repeating himself to this degree, he was willing to do it once more.

     “Intention:  not  to harm.”

     To his surprise, the purple seeker snorted loudly in disbelief, voice derisive. “I know what your  intentions  are, fragger. You’ll get to him over over my deactivated frame!”

     Behind the furious seeker, Soundwave heard a faint (but pleased?) utterance of: “Skywarp...”

     “Negative.” Soundwave shook his helm, taking another deep in-vent. He’d had no idea seekers had such chaotically overwhelming E.M. fields. “Intention: to assist only.”

     Despite his protests, this  Skywarp  still growled threateningly, looking ready throw-down regardless of Soundwave’s intentions. Pointlessly protective of a mech who had been in no danger from him to begin with.

     From behind him, Soundwave could hear the other seeker pushing up from the ground.

     “Skywarp,” he said again, and the purple seeker’s wings lowered a fraction. Not his fists though. And though he didn’t take his optics off of Soundwave, Skywarp tilted his helm enough to ask his friend, “He hurt you?”

     “As if he could.”

     A blue hand appeared under a purple wing, touching Skywarp’s waist gently. Red optics peered out at Soundwave from over the top edge of that same wing, sharp and contemplative. Portraying no pain in regards to the blow his helm had received. 

     “I do believe he wants something, though.”

     “A broken intake?” Skywarp quipped, making that sharp gaze shine with amusement.

     “Why don’t we ask him?”

      “Negative.”

     Soundwave tried to shake off the feeling that he was losing control of the situation. Despite that, he couldn’t help feeling doubly fortunate.  Two  seekers in Kaon, he almost couldn’t believe his luck.

     Charged up and confrontational aside, they were everything Megatron had asked for and  then some  . Everything the Decepticons needed right now. He  needed  to do this right.

     “What do you want, creep?” Skywarp asked, stubbornly keeping his defensive position.

     Over his wing, the other seeker watched him closely.

     There was something about the edge in his gaze that gave Soundwave the impression the  he  was the one to appeal to. “Intention: to assist. To… talk.”

     “Whatever about?”

     “Justice–”

     Skywarp made a constipated face of confusion. “Justice?”

     “--and equality.”

     “Politics?” His voice drawled the word with all the contempt of a privileged mecha, but his unrelenting gaze did not match his tone. Soundwave knew he was being measured silently by the other, knew that he’d taken notice of the insignia Soundwave wore proudly on his chest.

     “Orrr, perhaps you’re referring to… something else?”

     “Affirmative. Query.”

     “Go on.”

     “Reason for being in Kaon?”

     It was hardly a sight-seeing city, especially on the cusp of revolution.

     They were both silent a moment. Despite not communicating in a way Soundwave could hear, he could feel that they were conferring with one another through other means.

     Not a comm link, but something more. 

     Eventually, Skywarp answered. “We’re here for the fights.”

     “Query: the gladiatorial arena?”

     “Yeah, the pits or whatever. Whatsit to you?”

     Skywarp was the one talking, but Soundwave was certain the other was calling the shots. So he addressed him.

     “Query: true reason for visiting the gladiatorial arena?”

     “You got a rock for a processor? I just told you–”

     “Reason: not to view the fights.”

     Skywarp’s faceplates went nearly as purple as his armor, but before he could he could attempt to lay into Soundwave, the servo on his waist snaked around into a firmer hold as the other seeker stepped closer.

     The tone of his voice was… carefully nonchalant.

     “Whatever other reason would there be?”

     “And whatsit to you?”  Skywarp repeated himself forcefully.

     Without breaking the seeker’s gaze, Soundwave laid a servo over his own chest. “Designation: Soundwave. Purpose: seeking capable warriors.”

     “This is your coliseum’s idea of a recruitment tactic?" The seeker behind finally sauntered around to stand in front of his friend, frame shorter by a matter of inches.

     Skywarp dropped his fists at last, but instead wrapped protective arms around his friend's shoulders and waist, watching Soundwave for any funny business. Their positions effectively switched.

     "Unless…" Those sharp optics traced his insignia purposefully, tips of his wings flicking minutely against Skywarp’s chest. "Unless it isn't the coliseum you work for,  Soundwave."

     The way he let Soundwave’s designation roll off of his glossa was not a way most mecha addressed him. He was accustomed to being either disregarded or somewhat feared.

     He wasn’t sure he’d ever  heard anyone murmur it in the low, playful tone the seeker in front of him was using. 

     "Affirmative."

     The seeker looked smug, though Soundwave couldn’t fathom why. He was also more than happy to keep talking, however.

     “I’ve heard… rumors. Chitters on the wind telling me of some ambitious  freedom fighters out here in this Primus-forsaken, backwater town who’ve been stirring up quite a fair bit of excitement. Making things, dare I say,  difficult  for a certain functionalist tyrant?”

     Had Soundwave not witnessed it himself, he’d never know this mech had just taken such a hard blow to the back of the helm. He shifted in Skywarp’s arms with a sultry smile, sharp optics still bright and calculating.

     The way he spoke was somehow flippant and careful simultaneously. Everything about the seeker oozed confidence, control,  contradiction . 

     He placed a blue servo over the black one on his waist, tilting his helm to hum, “now what were they calling themselves again, Skywarp?”

     “Deadicons?”

     “Decepticons,” Soundwave corrected, never taking his optics off of the shorter of the two, who hummed thoughtfully.

     “No, I rather think Skywarp is on to something. Only mechs with a wish for a swift deactivation would dare cross the  might  of Sentinel Prime. Judging by the state of this pit of a city, I’m starting to think they may be nothing more than a band of thugs fated to be rounded up and eradicated in a public display of what happens when the will of a Prime is disobeyed.”

     Skywarp snickered and Soundwave could tell what was happening. This seeker clearly already had an interest, which did half of Soundwave’s job for him, but he was fishing for more. It was reasonable. No sensible mech would throw themselves into a revolution without knowing the strength of the side they were choosing to fight for.

     “Negative,” he repeated. “Decepticons are growing in number, and in strength.”

     “Is that why you’re lurking in back alleys for over-charged recruits?”

     “Soundwave: searching for capable flight frames to expand our capabilities.”

     Red eyes widened. “Ohoho, flight frames, hm?”

     “Affirmative.”

     “Let me guess, your hapless leader is looking for a new advantage in combat over the Prime and sent you out to find someone who can fill that gap, hm?”

     “Affirmative.”

     “Well then,” he waved a servo magnanimously, making himself ever more comfortable in the hold of Skywarp, whom Soundwave was beginning to suspect was more than simply a friend.

     Both of them were eyeing him expectantly, their fields mingling and pushing against Soundwave’s own with practiced intimidation. 

     He in-vented to center himself once more. They were waiting for him to win them over. Not for the first time, Soundwave wished he was as gifted in oral diction as Megatron was. He could appeal to the common rabble, but the mechs before him were clearly anything but.

     “Query.”

     “Yes?”

     “Designation?”

     The seeker looked surprised, lips quirking up into half of a smirk.

     “My  designation?”

     “Affirmative.”

     “You mean my reputation hasn’t proceeded me in this dirtball town?” He pouted playfully, despite Soundwave’s immunity to whatever manipulative flirting he was trying to engage in. “Clearly no one here has taste.”

     “Or half a processor,” Skywarp chimed in.

     “I suppose I’ll just have to make an impression, then. Starting now.” 

     Skywarp loosened his hold, allowing the other seeker to take a single step forward and stand tall, wings held proudly high.

     “Senator Starscream of Vos. The handsome seeker behind me is Skywarp, a member of my trine.”

     Soundwave didn’t react the way Starscream had been expecting, clearly.

     He hardly reacted at all to the news that he was standing in the presence of the senator of the great city-state known for turning out the best flyers on Cybertron. Not on the outside. And Starscream’s smirk fell into a displeased frown.

     For his part, Soundwave was thinking quickly, taking in the realization that a senator was taking an interest in their side of the revolution. A senator from a city-state in good standing with Iacon was there in Kaon, looking  with interest  for the rebels responsible for upsetting the status quo.

     This… this could change everything. Megatron needed to know.

     The annoyed flick of wings brought Soundwave from his thoughts, not that he cared if the seeker was annoyed. But he  did  care to arrange an introduction.

     Before he could form the words, the universe insisted on derailing him just one more time. Their collective attention was drawn to the sudden heavy footfalls of someone quickly approaching from the street, before a larger frame came skidding into the mouth of the alley.

     A  third  seeker, breathless and blue; taller than the other two with wings wide enough to block out the yellow light of the street beyond him. His pale faceplates held a look of panic.

     “What happened?? You both just disappeared!”

     Skywarp, for his part, looked unrepentant; answering simply. “Star picked a fight with the bouncer and got tossed out on his aft.”

     “Excellent timing, Thundercracker,” Starscream interjected with a smile that spelled trouble. “This grounder we found lurking in the alley is looking for flight frames, and I do believe he was just about to  proposition  us.”

     At first, Soundwave saw little issue with the manner in which Starscream stated this; until the words sank into Thundercracker’s processor and his panicked look flipped to protective fury. Aimed  directly  at Soundwave.

     There was already a processor ache budding in behind his optics, and Soundwave wondered. He really and truly wondered if his luck at finding what Megatron had tasked of him in  threefold  was truly luck at all.

     The sadistically amused expression on Starscream’s face as their larger friend wedged himself firmly between Soundwave and the seekers sank an odd feeling into his tanks. A feeling he’d not had since he’d agreed to work under the servo of the likes of Ratbat.

     Maybe, just maybe, this was a decision he’d come to regret.

[orchard-lad]

Orchards and Wild Pokemon

[The lesson is held in the orchard, under a bright sunny day. Darnell is sat under a parasol, petting a random Budew he found.]

I'd like to thank Ellisa ( @adventures-on-foster-island ) for the opportunity to speak at this camp regarding the importance of understanding orchards and its interactions with the ecosystems you establish them in.

Being a trainer is the main occupation that people associate with pokemon. However, for most people it isn’t a career they can, or intend to keep up into their twilight years. For many trainers, one career they transition into is that of orchard-keeping.

Berries are a resources that the world has a never-ending appetite for, being the basis for a majority of the world's food production. Berries are made into kibble, used as items, used as feed for prey pokemon and more. As the world continues to expand and more and more trainers and people keep pokemon, berries are increasingly needed to keep the world fed, hence the need for orchardists.

When it comes to owning orchards, one of the most important parts of your jobs is managing you and your orchard's interactions with the wild pokemon and ecosystem you are in. In creating an orchard, what you are essentially doing is taking up a chunk of an ecosystem entering that ecosystem. Most of the time, we don’t really care about that, as we live in cities or towns, ecosystems built by people for people out of concrete and steel.

But an orchard is a land of wood and grass, food and shelter. This makes it not only attractive, but interactive with the ecosystem around it. There is no way that you can pollinate the trees of the orchard yourself without the pokemon of the area around it, whether it be the Ledybas of Johto or Vivillions of Kalos. To compound this, pokemon specific trees, such as Berries and Apricots don’t just require any land to grow, but land that has been infused with the energy that pokemon give off on a daily basis. Should you somehow grow a berry tree in an isolated location, away from any pokemon, you will soon find that the tree will wither and die in days as it lacks this vital energy. As such, for your orchard to prosper, you have to interact with the ecosystem around you.

Pokemon can be split into three types: Beneficial pokemon, neutral pokemon and harmful pokemon. What pokemon fit into these categories depend on your region and ecosystem. For the sake of this lecture, it will be based on Johto as that is where I am located.

Beneficial pokemon are pokemon like pollinators, or pest control pokemon. While such pokemon might consume a few berries on a day to day basis, their presence and efforts in pest control provide more overall help to your orchard. A Johtoan example would be Furrets and Noctowl.

Neutral pokemon simply live in an area, and might not affect your orchard overall as a whole. This could include Wooper or Dunsparce. Alternatively, neutral pokemon might provide pros and cons that balance each other out. An example would be Hoppip, who might consume nutrients from the soil it decides to rest on, however are really efficient nitrogen fixers. 

Lastly are harmful pokemon, who pose no benefit to the orchard whatsoever. This comes in many ways such as destructive pokemon (Aipom, Houndoom), territorial pokemon (Beedrill, Usaring), and berry/tree consuming pokemon, (Weedle, Caterpie, Paras, Pikachu).

Pokemon don’t fall neatly into these categories. For example, Yanma are really good at pest control, however they are aggressive and will attempt to attack you and other beneficial pokemon. Similarly, Spinarak are good at pest control within their territory, and so are Ariados, but an Ariados might decide to follow you home and smother you in your sleep. Due to the danger that these pokemon pose, they can be classified as harmful pokemon instead. Talking to other orchard owners in your regions and studying pokemon is required for your orchard to function at full efficiency, while having the least impact.

To deal with all of these pokemon, this requires battling capability. Battling and orchard ownership go hand in hand, as similarly to pokemon in the wild, if you want to own land, you must have the capability to back it up. In cities, this capability is provided by the society around you, which enforces such claims through hiring trainers to deal with issues, or the police force. But out in the countryside, this claim is only enforceable by you. Pokemon will not understand nor accept pieces of paper claiming your legal right to own land, and will test your claims repeatedly.

To understand this, we must talk about territory. All pokemon have a territory. In that territory, they often have two parts to it:

Home territory

Resource claim

A home territory is a pokemon’s home, such as a Usaring’s cave, or a Noctowl’s tree. Approaching a home territory will invite warnings, and encroaching on it without permission leads to violence. 

A resource claim is a claim over a resource in an area. This could be the forest surrounding a Usaring’s cave, or the stretch of forest a Noctowl patrols. In this area, they have claims over certain resources, such as mates, berries or prey, but will not clash with other pokemon unless they are competing over those resources.

For certain pokemon, such as Spinarak or Ariados, these two parts are the same.

If you had the numbers, and the power you could enforce a home territory claim over the entire orchards. There certainly are farmers that do so, such as most farms or ranches. But in an orchard, due to your need for pollination and pokemon energy, it is far more reasonable to instead enforce a resource claim. This means that you can cooperate with beneficial pokemon (i.e. pokemon not in competition with the same resources as you, i.e berries). 

Pokemon such as Noctowl or Furrets, which are smarter and more reasonable as well as not being in competition with you, are easy to settle into orchards. Noctowl tend to claim a tree or two on the edge of the orchard, and if reasoned with will often allow you to harvest berries off their trees. Furrets might claim the base of a tree to nest in, and often won’t have any issues with berry harvests, although they might claim a berry or two as a snack.

Both these pokemon consume pests as prey, and as such, short of you invading their nests or burrows, they are often great pokemon to have on your farm. However, their territories might conflict with one another. As such, to prevent constant combat between them, you might help introduce a neutral species between them or another beneficial species, such as a Ledyba swarm. Alternatively, you could also enforce a stronger claim with your pokemon there by having your pokemon patrol there a bit more often. Occasionally, a pokemon might move in that makes for good pest control or pollinator, but disrupt other pokemon already established. In those cases, it might make better sense for you to chase them off instead. 

In contrast, pokemon like Ursaring or Aipom are bad for orchards. Ursaring often claim large swathes of land for resources and are incredibly territorial. In addition, their preferred way of harvesting berries involves damaging the tree to bring the berries to the ground. As they are in direct competition with humans, they often attack on sight and are easily provoked. As a result, it is important to enforce your control over your orchard by beating them in a battle. 

On my orchard alone, I often deal with 3-5 new Ursaring that have been forced from home after losing in a territory battle or evolving that attempt to claim my territory every year. Left alone, these bears can easily damage trees and cause severe harm to your pokemon and yourself. Meanwhile, Aipom are nomadic tree-damagers, consuming large amounts of berries while damaging the branches they hang from. As such, they are a recurring pest that require constant vigilance to handle.

The importance I want to state here is the understanding that owning an orchard requires not only co-existing with the ecosystem, but also establishing yourself. If you choose to never battle for territory, you will soon find your orchard overrun by Beedrill hives, Rattata infestations and angry Ursarings, none of which will stop at fences or legal documents. However, it is important to understand that orchards can’t be pokemon free regions either. Your orchard will soon evolve into an extension of the forest, with countless pokemon setting up different territories competing over different resources. Some might be beneficial for your interests, while others might be negative. Your job is to balance the competing needs of yourself and these various pokemon, and find a way to resolve it that results in the least amount of damage to the ecosystem around you.

[formulaorange]

Cat Nutrition - An Off-Topic Post

I've worked in the pet food industry for the last 7 years and it always shocks me how little people know about the nutritional needs for their cats/ pets in general. A lot of people just follow what their parents did or whatever the vet or pet store recommends (often promoting their own brands). Here's a big blurb of everything you should know about feeding your fur beans. For those short on time here's the spark notes version: Kibble is really bad for cats and was really only made for human convenience and profit- it dehydrates them which is one of the main causes for kidney disease which affects 1 in 3 cats and is ridiculously high carb - 3-5x more than what they need. Even fancy feast or the lowest quality wet/canned food is better than the highest quality dry/kibble. While Raw can have it's downsides if fed improperly, there's lots of balanced brands that can make it easy and is really the best for them, it's what their bodies are made to eat! Picky cats: Add warm water to their food. Play with them before meal times. Find 4-5 different foods they like and rotate so they don't get bored. Do your own research! Find out what works best for you, don't blindly follow what vets tell you and what friends or family have been doing. Here's everything to know about Cat and their role in the Pet Food Industry:

1. Cat are desert animals! This means that they are made to be getting 80-90% of their moisture from their food! Most cats will only drink water from a bowl when they are severely dehydrated. This is why feeding wet food (canned) or raw is so much more important. 2. Kibble is a new invention for Human Convenience! Kibble has only been around for 67 years! The first kibble was invented in 1956. Back in the 40s during WWII there were sanctions put on the use of cans and metals, essentially removing the option of canned pet foods. This pushed companies to find an alternative, working with by products (left overs) from cereal companies they created a high-profit cheap food they could sell to customers that had a better shelf life. -How is Kibble made? Almost all kibble goes through a process called extrusion where the initial ingredients, meats, by-products and additives are processed under intense heat and pressure 4-5 times before they're cut to shape and sprayed with flavors and oils. This process removes nutrients, vitamins and pretty much everything from the original ingredients. Try cooking a high grade steak at max output on your oven 4-5 times and see if anything is really worth eating at that point. -Veterinary Diets In the late 60s, a generation after the invention of kibble, there became an increase in kidney and liver failures, prompting a French vet to create his own trademarked food - Royal Canin with Hill's Science Diet being created later in the US. (Fun fact, Hill's has actually trademarked the term "prescription diet" so that no other pet food brand is allowed to use it in their packaging.) 3. Cats vs. Dogs - What's the difference? While dogs are much more flexible in what they can eat, Cats are obligate carnivores. A Carnivore (Dogs) does well on meat based diets, while Obligate Carnivores (Cats) need a meat based diet in order to survive. Broken down in food- dogs ideally need 30% protein, 63% fat and 7% carb from their food cats need 53% protein, 35% fat and 12%. 4. Why does this matter and what does it mean for their food? Dry foods are primarily carbohydrates. 35-50% on average. This is 3-5x more than a cat needs in addition to the lack of protein, which is what keeps a cat functioning. Grains - or carbs can be extremely detrimental to a cats body: Carbohydrates turn into sugar in the body, meaning the more carbs a cat consumes, the more sugar, which increases their chances of getting diabetes. In the wild, most cats choose to avoid eating the intestines of their prey, where most of the grains and fibre are kept, indicating cats also use very little to no fibre in their diets. On top of that, the lack of moisture in kibble actually dehydrates cats, one of the primary reasons for kidney problems down the line, affecting 1 in 3 cats. 5. What do I feed my Cat? Feed wet or raw! At the end of the day, if your cat only eats fancy feast or whiskas, or if that's the only wet(canned) food you can afford, it's a huge step forward for their diets. These brands are going to be better than any of the highest quality dry foods you can find because it means they're getting the moisture and protein they need without the extra carb and salt content. Raw foods have come a long way. They aren't all the frozen patties or having to home cook the meal with all these added supplements. There's lots of complete brands out there in different formats that make it easy for everyone. Freeze-dried is a form of raw that you rehydrate and feed. Air-dried (most expensive) is fed like kibble, and is kind of a jerky texture. If you're on raw, or with any food, make sure to wash your hands with soap before and after feeding and I recommend getting your cat dewormed twice a year for precautionary actions. -Treats the common ones like greenies, tempations are all kibble like treats, filled with carbs and salt, that make them irresistible but also horrible for them. Single 1 ingredient treats are the best out there. Even a scrab of unseasoned chicken from dinner or salmon sashimi from a sushi night is a great alternative.

6. Reading the Label Once you get into canned foods, there's hundreds of options. Here's a few things that help me decide what's worth it and what to avoid. Starting from worst to best with the wording: "Flavor" ie - "Beef flavor Dog food" it doesn't even need a certain percentage of beef, as long as it's technically detected in the food. "With" ie - "Dinner with beef" - beef only has to be minimum 3% of the food. 25% rule - If the food has 25% or more of the main protein, it can be labelled as "Beef entree" or "lamb Dinner". If there's more than 1, they can be labelled together but must add up to 25% and be labelled in the order of their percentage. - ie "Lamb & Lamb Liver Entree" 95% rule - At least 95% of the food must be of the listed protein. "Chicken dog food" Often - those with a 95% label will proudly show it, while the others you'll have to read to notice. 7. Kitten vs. Adult vs. Senior food There's really only 4 categories a food can be put into - Gestation/Lactation (for Mama cats) Growth Maintenance All Life Stages "Senior food" does not have a category as there is no clear definition on a change of nutritional needs as a cat ages. While "Growth" is typically attributed to kittens, most wet foods will have kitten portioning as they are all life stages. The biggest difference is that kitten food is fattier and has some added nutrients needed for growth. These can also be found in any other canned food with the appropriate portioning. 8. Urinary Food There's a lot of misconceptions about this. Brands will advertise Urinary dry food or the vet line - Kidney food. But if it's dry, as we now know, it dehydrates them, furthering the damage to the kidneys, making it extremely counter intuitive. Any wet food will be better than a dry "urinary" food to help treat this issue, ideally a low phosphorous brand. - Weruva is the most popular and has a low phosphorous line as well. 9. Fish Fish is not a naturally occurring food for cats! Cats only started eating fish when fishing became prominent in human civilizations. Fish is the most common occurring allergy in cats! - some symptoms are constant itchiness, rashes, immediately throwing up, or butt dragging after a poop. I personally recommend avoiding fish in cat foods, especially Tuna, if it's bad for us in large quantities due to the toxic build up of chemicals and things like mercury, imagine what it does to them. 10. Pickiness and Meal Time Cats are notoriously picky or fussy or spoiled. This is because they have 4 stages of food preference that need to be just right. 1 - smell 2 - taste 3 - texture / consistency 4 - how it sits in their stomach

It's hard to find exactly what they want and unfortunately there's no shortcut. It's really just trial and error.

Hot tips: -Add warm water to their food - it's gross but cats like their food at prey body temperature, if it's cold to the touch for us, it's likely not that appealing for them either.

-Just like dogs, keeping a routine is incredibly important for cats. they're actually a lot more meticulous about routine than dogs are and will let you know exactly when breakfast and dinner time is. Leaving the food out makes it less appealing for them. If they don't eat breakfast, take the food away and they have to wait for dinner. Over time they'll eat until they're done during meal time.

-Play with them before food! Cats are hunters, their goal for survival is catch, kill, eat, sleep etc. Play with them near meal time, get them real worked up until they're exhausted, then put down food, they'll be much more likely to eat now that they're gotten all the hunting out of the way.

-I recommend having at least 4 or 5 different flavors or brands that your cat likes, to rotate through so they don't get bored and you don't end up at square 1 when they decide that one they like isn't good enough anymore.

Keep in mind: Beef, Lamb & Duck are often high in fat and should be used as a once in a while protein. Chicken & Turkey are the best proteins. Even if your cat doesn't like chicken from one brand, they could go nuts for one from a different brand or even the same brand with a different texture. Try them out and see, don't eliminate a whole protein so easily because of a few that get turned down.

I think that's a wrap. Food really makes a world of a difference for these guys, their whole world revolves around it and getting it right can mean years of a difference. - For reference, the average life expectancy for indoor cats is 15-20 years old! For the devils' advocates - yes there are cats that have lived long lives on the worst quality dry foods, but they're really the exceptions, same as people. There's definitely people who have lived to their 90s or older surviving off McDonalds or the equivalent, but that's not really the kind of quality of life or food you want to be giving your pet who is entirely dependent on your choices at the pet store. If you stuck around to the end, I appreciate you, and I'm glad there are other people out there who care just as much about their furry friends as I do. I'm more than willing to discuss any questions, even it it's not directly about their nutrition! Side note - some of the canned food brands I'm a big fan of: Feline Natural Rawz Tiki Cat Nature's Logic Identity Weruva/BFF

[dontpetmeibite]

heal vs fix

I think healing is the appropriate word for traumas and emotional injury, but I'd feel weird as hell asking to have a malfunctioning circuit breaker or servomotor "healed" when it literally is a matter of swapping out a common part or physically repairing a structure.

If the medic can find a stripped gear, remove it, and swap in a replacement in less than a breem, that feels like fixing, not 'healing'; I had a broken part, it is now gone and the mechanisms inside me are now functioning properly. There is no incision or residual damage to heal; a piece of armour may have been temporarily removed under local anesthesia, but it's back in place now and I feel good as new.

Healing is a process that takes time and the injured person has to participate in it.

If you have a stripped gear and for whatever reason you can't get it replaced, and it causes damage to other parts of the frame and the way you move changes to favour it...that requires healing. But that's because of the additional damaged caused by not receviving repairs when needed.

When repairs or upgrades don't take, healing may or may not be required. I briefly had a vehicle mode and my spark rejected it, so I had kibble falling off and it hurt, and it took a little while to recover from that.

But the time I stripped a gear in my dewclaw/thumb transformation hurt a great deal more than dying kibble did, and it was immediately and permanently repaired.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Funky hcs, cybertronians purring when content or happy, or making small chirps to eachother when too lazy to use words (cliffjumper would do this)

Smoll sparkling instinctually climb on their parents backs like possums do, so imagine starscream with the jettwins clenched on his back sleeping while he's working.

Dreadwing easily get flustered if someone flirts with him.

Starscream thinks dreadwing is attractive, but would never say it even if you torture him lol

Prime finial move like cat ears

Soundwave probably has stray cats in his quarters

When it becomes too cold, cybertronians curl around eachother for warmth.

Sparklings have 4 stages in early years before becoming a youngling, bean, too smoll to move, only chirp and sleep and eat, waddly stage, they're still pudgy but they're grown a bit, their optics open and they waddle to get to places, serval kitten, lanky limbs and unproportioned body structure, zoomes everywhere, uncoordinated as all hell, loud, and finally semi youngling, or a nibbling, where they start to walk on two legs intsead of four limbs, this is the stage were they become more talkative and have longer conversations.

Well since this isn't super specific, here are some additional headcanons of mine to go with this.

In relation to sparklings:

Newforged sparklings are practically animals. The youngest can hardly move most times, but frag it all when they really put their spark to it they can be terrifying and bolt on all fours.

Sparklings, when without a caretaker, travel in small packs. The youngest will magnetize themselves to the oldest and they roam wild until they develop higher processing abilities or are adopted.

Newforged sparklings have denta sharp enough to rival a scraplet and can and will bite when approached.

Sparklings have a natural desire to seek out civilization through special code and find said civilization via a special set of sensors that allow them to detect spark signature density.

They lose these sensors as they age, often signifying the activation their higher cognitive functions. However if left stranded once these sensors are lost, the sparkling in question will turn out to be more wild in response to lack of exposure to other mecha.

Sparklings have zero preferences when it comes to fuel and will devour anything with even a hint of energon in it. This includes but is not limited to dirt, bugs, small-mechanimals, any energon powered tools, and even energon crystals five times their size.

Sparklings can unhinge their jaws slightly to devour larger energon portions. This can lead them to get things stuck halfway down their intake after a failed attempt to eat it.

Sparklings choose their own caretakers when left to their own devices. These chosen caretakers often end up doing better in raising their charges than those not selected personally, but this is not always the case.

It is incredibly rare for two sparklings to choose the same caretaker and get along because most refuse to tolerate a sibling who is in their minds, competition for scarce resources.

Sparklings are slow to bond to their caretaker but surprisingly possessive even before a bond is established.

Sparklings are known to fight over potential caretakers when there are not enough or two or more take an interest in the same one.

Once bonded to their caretaker, sparklings will make their claim clear to any others they see, often hissing, chirping, or otherwise making a racket to prove that the mech they chose is theirs.

Grounder sparklings will magnetize themselves to their caretaker's back so they can still see what is going on, fliers will hang off the shoulder, minicons prefer hiding in their caretaker when possible, and triplechangers/beastformers are more fond of hanging onto an arm or leg.

Sparklings shed armor as they grow and develop new plating as they age. They start off fairly smooth and round but gain more sharp edges and defining features with time. Wings and other such kibble grow in right before younglinghood.

In relation to Cybertronian Habits:

Cybertronians are not a very touchy race. They do not physically touch one another often because they have EM fields to make up for body language.

Touching is considered a very intimate thing when not in a professional setting. It is only done between those who trust one another or are familiar enough to be somewhat at ease.

Shoulder touches and small lingering interactions of similar variety are common among co-workers and friends.

Clasping arms or being particularly close is something found only among close friends, Amica bonded, or political allies.

Full blown hugs are something meant for family and family alone. It is a rare gift.

Touching helms is considered the highest form of intimacy and is reserved solely for Conjunx Endura or caretaker's and their sparklings. There are rare cases where it is seen between abused mecha bound together by trauma, but beyond that it is a sacred thing.

Caste, or rank determines how much a mech is allowed to express themselves.

Low caste mecha are expected to keep their helms low and be quiet, but are otherwise not forbidden from being more touchy and interactive.

Middle caste mecha are required to be chaste in all sorts of interaction. Their EM fields must be held close and their outward expression must be carefully controlled. Intimacy of any kind in public is frowned upon.

High caste mecha, depending on function are either required to show nothing or allows to express themselves however they see fit.

This bleeds into behavior in both Autobots and Decpeticons due to how deeply these stigmas were rooted.

When startled Cybertronians flare their plating to look bigger.

Most Cybertronians have built in tracking systems and will automatically track small lights like laser pointers when unfocused. This behavior has been largely trained out of the bots involved in the war, but it can still be seen when the bots are tired.

Even Optimus Prime can end up whipping around to track a small light when exhausted before he refocuses.

Cybertronians naturally do not speak but rather sing to communicate. Spoken language was introduced by the Quintessons but has since only been used in formal situations to show attention and understanding.

Cybertronians don't really get cold. Their sparks keep their internals somewhat warm, but when they do end up reaching an environment so cold it can reach their cores, they group together and connect via special cables to share heat.

When too hot, Cybertronians can shed their outer layers of armor. More often than not they simply flare their plating and work their fans to cool down since it can take weeks if not months for shed plating to regro.

It is also healthy and normal for a Cybertronian to shed their plating after a few centuries of wear and tear so that fresh plating may grow in its place.

Shed plating is often eaten by the Cybertronian who lost it as a way to conserve resources.

There are even special recipes designed to make eating shed plating more palatable.

Cybertronians all have mandibles in their intakes which they use to process energon. They can extend their mandibles and the tubing attached to it if required, but it is uncomfortable for those no longer sparklings.

Mecha left alone in groups will form clans on instinct. The biggest among them automatically ends up activating more protective codes while the smaller become more sensitive to changes in the area.

After the Quintessons invasion, all Cybertronians forged from the Well are coded with an instinctual hatred toward the invaders and are all modeled to be best able to resist the invaders should they come again.

Random tidbits:

Optimus had sensory panels when he was still wild, ones that flared out from the sides of his helm much like insect antennae. They were far more sensitive then and have since been armored and largely hidden. He still brings them out on occasion though just so that he doesn't forget how to use them.

Arcee originally had a bright pink and white paintjob. She only changed it after the war began to inspire fear in her foes. She actually misses her old paint dearly but it too involved in her persona to drop it now.

Being from the early ages of Cybertron's history, Ratchet has a few modifications that no modern mecha possess. One such mod is his innate ability to operate with less energon. His frame was designed to retain energon and use it more efficiently, therefore making it less common for him to fuel as often as the others.

Bulkhead actually wanted to be an architect before the war but was denied entry into school because of his frame type and instead joined the wreckers after being rejected. In his free time he still comes up with building plans sometimes.

Bumblebee was known to have one of the most beautiful voices among Autobot troops before he was made mute. He could reach pitches that no others could and was even able to perform feats of song known to only be possible to those with mods or highly sensitive vocalizers. Losing his voice didn't hurt most because he couldn't speak, no, it hurt more because he could no longer sing.

Ultra Magnus received a frame upgrade sometime in his past that was highly experimental at the time. It made him larger, sturdier, and overall a force to be reckoned with. However he gets pains and phantom aches where old kibble used to be due to the relative newness of his mods at the time.

Wheeljack almost invented space bridges by accident before they were conceived by council scientists. He was trying to make a bomb that would tap into the void to create a mini black hole and instead made a small portal. He brushed it off as failed experiment at the time and didn't learn till long after that he had concocted space bridges before they were even a thing and didn't even know it.

Megatron has not shed his plating in over two millennia and continues to refuse to do so for various reasons he will not state despite the fact that his armor is old and getting rather frail at the base. He works around this by strengthening his armor with special salves and injections so that he need not shed it.

Starscream once had a far more appealing frame that he ended up getting changed during the war after receiving an injury that nearly shredded his entire outer armor. He never had much of an opportunity to change it back to how it was after that, but he does dearly miss his previous appearance even if he never says so.

Soundwave was once a very bulky mech and only slimmed down after he left the senate to try and emulate spark eaters in a rather quiet act of defiance toward his previous companions. He much prefers being seen as similar to the monsters of old instead of as an intimidating but ultimately fallible mech.

Shockwave sometimes has moments where the shadow play wears off long enough for his previous personality to make an appearance. It is very rare, but when it happens he is often kept locked away so he can't go running to Optimus who was once a friend back when he was Orion Pax.

Knockout used to be a flight frame and only lost his wings due to an accident. He pioneered the way to changing his alt-mode to fit in, but he still misses the skies and sometimes likes to stand on tall structures to feel the wind. He even likes to skydive if he is sure there is a landing place for him or some sort of security to keep him from falling to his death.

Breakdown actually once wished to work in sparkling care but was denied because of his alt-mode and frame type. The skills he picked up and the knowledge of sparklings he accumulated has largely found use with the Vehicons due to their relative youth. He tends to baby the Vehicons when he can and they appreciate it.

Dreadwing once had a duel to the death with a noble back when he was very young. He won, but got a nasty scar across his chassis in the process, one that never fully recovered and has since been covered. Skyquake got an engraving in the same place to match the scar so Dreadwing didn't feel so alone.

Arachnid almost joined Sentinel's science division as a researcher and only left at the last moment because of the threat of being shadow played.

The Vehicons play dead when it battle against Optimus. They have long learned that if they stay down after being hit Optimus won't kill them and they won't be punished since they were "hurt".

[lucashen481]

Automatic Cat Feeder Water Dispenser Set, 2 In 1 Tilted Automatic Pet Food And Water Feeder Gravity Food Feeder and Waterer

Keep your feline friend happy, healthy, and well-fed even when you're not home with this 2-in-1 Tilted Automatic Cat Feeder and Water Dispenser Set. Designed for convenience and practicality, this gravity-based system combines both food and water dispensers into one sleek, space-saving unit, making it perfect for busy pet owners.

This innovative pet feeder uses a gravity flow design, ensuring your cat or small dog always has access to fresh food and water without the need for electricity or programming. The food dispenser features a tilted bowl, which helps guide kibble into the feeding area more smoothly, reducing food jamming and encouraging a comfortable eating posture for your pet. The water dispenser uses a siphon system that automatically refills the bowl as your pet drinks, keeping water levels consistent and fresh throughout the day.

Crafted from durable, non-toxic, and BPA-free plastic, the feeder set is safe for your pets and easy to clean. Both dispensers have large capacity containers, meaning fewer refills and more peace of mind, especially during long workdays or short trips away from home.

The compact, dual-function design saves space and helps keep your feeding area tidy. Rubberized, non-slip feet ensure stability and prevent spills, making it ideal for placement in kitchens, laundry rooms, or patios.

Key Features:

2-in-1 Design: Combines food and water dispensers for all-in-one pet feeding convenience.

Tilted Food Bowl: Promotes ergonomic feeding and prevents food clogging.

Gravity-Fed System: No power needed – reliable feeding and hydration all day.

Large Capacity: Reduces the need for frequent refilling.

Easy to Clean: Detachable parts made from pet-safe, BPA-free plastic.

Non-Slip Base: Stays securely in place during use.

Ideal for cats and small dogs, this automatic pet feeder and waterer set offers a worry-free solution to keeping your pet nourished and hydrated every day.

[businessblog1234]

Automatic Cat Feeder Water Dispenser Set, 2 In 1 Tilted Automatic Pet Food And Water Feeder Gravity Food Feeder and Waterer

Keep your feline friend happy, healthy, and well-fed even when you're not home with this 2-in-1 Tilted Automatic Cat Feeder and Water Dispenser Set. Designed for convenience and practicality, this gravity-based system combines both food and water dispensers into one sleek, space-saving unit, making it perfect for busy pet owners.

This innovative pet feeder uses a gravity flow design, ensuring your cat or small dog always has access to fresh food and water without the need for electricity or programming. The food dispenser features a tilted bowl, which helps guide kibble into the feeding area more smoothly, reducing food jamming and encouraging a comfortable eating posture for your pet. The water dispenser uses a siphon system that automatically refills the bowl as your pet drinks, keeping water levels consistent and fresh throughout the day.

Crafted from durable, non-toxic, and BPA-free plastic, the feeder set is safe for your pets and easy to clean. Both dispensers have large capacity containers, meaning fewer refills and more peace of mind, especially during long workdays or short trips away from home.

The compact, dual-function design saves space and helps keep your feeding area tidy. Rubberized, non-slip feet ensure stability and prevent spills, making it ideal for placement in kitchens, laundry rooms, or patios.

Key Features:

2-in-1 Design: Combines food and water dispensers for all-in-one pet feeding convenience.

Tilted Food Bowl: Promotes ergonomic feeding and prevents food clogging.

Gravity-Fed System: No power needed – reliable feeding and hydration all day.

Large Capacity: Reduces the need for frequent refilling.

Easy to Clean: Detachable parts made from pet-safe, BPA-free plastic.

Non-Slip Base: Stays securely in place during use.

Ideal for cats and small dogs, this automatic pet feeder and waterer set offers a worry-free solution to keeping your pet nourished and hydrated every day.