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@screechingcosmos
I made this to comfort myself after re-reading the shit crestingamplitude and I write. Hello my name is Starscream, Seeker, Prince of Vos, Second In Command of the Decepticons, Fraggin' Idiot, Predacon Chewtoy, Fraggin' Idiot, Loser of Arms and most importantly- Fraggin' Idiot.
오늘의 낙서
Pentatonix | Love Again
Taste the pain right on my tongue, Novocaine to make me numb, Don't you worry, cause the night is young, Dance until the morning sun...
OH SWEET SUMMER CHILD, WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF FEAR?
I AM MEGATRON'S SIC I LITERALLY EAT DRINK AND PISS FEAR GOSH DIDDILY DARNIT
if you want a m o n s t e r, i can show you a f u c k i n g ( MONSTER )
Knockout’s face goes slack. Are you kidding me. Sexual tension with a history lesson? Eye ridges straighten above his optics, and a frown plays on his features as he heaves a sigh.
Primus…
He litters that frame with kisses, trailing himself downwards with each movement. Lip components pause anxiously over his hip area, nails digging delicately into energon lines. "Vos was in ashes, my Seeker's despaired..." Red optics glimmer towards the other. Oh, he deserved this.
"W-Well…uh, well I was hoping…" Knockout would laugh nervously, casting a glance over his shoulder plating, just in time to look back at Starscream as he found himself pinned against the wall across. "I was hoping it would pass without…any repercussions."
The Commander gives a roll of his optics, before sighing rather graciously. "They aren't repercussions, Doctor. It's a history lesson." He presses lip components to the side of one cheekplate, slowly progressing downwards. "Once upon a time, there was a great Prince who ruled over the aeries of Vos..."
A grunt passed over lip plates as he finds himself tugged closer to the silver seeker, one optic closing, and teeth barred. “T-Talk?” He questions, digi shifting, twitching ever so slightly.
Two optic ridges arch, and he loosens his grip, servos falling away entirely. Knockout's body language reads everything except wanting, so he obliges. "You don't think I'd let you get away with that comment, do you?" He's standing, pushing the red mech into the adjacent wall, optics glimmering.
The single, extended digi runs over the faceplate of the silver seeker, his interest ultimately pigued. “Oh~?” He rumbles, digi withdrawing momentarily, the grin that played upon his face all but fading as soon as he had been shot down.
"Then for what reason, may I ask?”
He's painfully amused, mostly for the sole fact of Knockout's immediately crestfallen gaze. But all the same, he slips digi along neck cables, careful to not cut. Helm tilting a little further, he knocks their forehelms together, bringing the red mech between his long legs. "It's time to talk."
He crossed his arms over his chest, gaze making attempt at finding some sort of other object to focus on in the room, and yet, Starscreams room was so utterly empty, that it made it rather hard not to keep staring. Eyeing the other ‘Con, an eye ridge would arch and he’d purse his lip plates into a fine line.
"Don’t mind if I do," Knockout replied in a nonchalant tone as he was beckoned. Crossing the room at a steady pace, he found himself atop the other mech, grinning at him, their faceplates inches from each other. He’d extend a single digit, hovering it over the other’s faceplate, as if to toy with him. It was the case; to make him suffer just a little more.
"And I’ll try to not bend your wing this time. No promises, however.”
The Seeker crosses long arms over a thin chassis, his helm tilting to the side. The red spike at the forefront gleams bright in the low light of the room. It's the sign of his royalty, the signal that he would always be the Prince of Vos - even if the city had been reduced to ashes. Crimson optics narrow briefly, focusing a moment on that dangerous claw before falling back to Knockout's face. He exvents a little, exhaust moving between them. Digi's go to rest on red spaulders, the sharpness of claws prominent. "Maybe I didn't bring you to my berth for interfacing, Knockout. So presumptuous."
Knockout finds himself blinking, again, as the doors to Starscreams ‘office’ open, and it was obvious by now that he was indeed staring. Made ever more obvious when his head tilted to the side as Starscream crossed the room. He remained in the doorway that lead to the hall. “I— have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Deny deny deny.
Right. He didn't buy it, but made no comment. Instead, he moved towards the main berth, gracefully pulling himself upon it. It was longer than most - to provide for Starscream's wing span and overbearing legs. The look he gives the red mech is expectant, if not impatient. "Well?"
The mech blinks as he finds himself being tugged backwards, looking over his shoulder plating, optics eyeing the silver Seeker carefully. “Is…that an order?” Knockout questions, eye-ridge raising, a smile creasing his faceplate. “Hm, after you.” He gestures with his digits. Of course he would stare. Who wouldn’t.
"Indeed." The look Starscream casts him is less than amused, but he leads the way all the same, wings slumping lazily and his heels carrying him delicately down various hallways until the Seeker's quarters are reached. The door opens with a wave of his hands, and he bypasses his 'office' in favor of the adjacent room containing his berth. "Stop staring. You make me feel like some buymech."
"Perfectly good by your standards maybe, but not excellent.” Eye Ridges lower, optics narrowing. “Besides, Soundwave isn’t a medic.” He’d keep his grip on Starscreams wings after a moment, before releasing them and taking a step back. “Either way, it’s only a matter of time before they’re left in disrepair, and when that time comes I do hope you’ll reconsider my aid, Starscream.” He’d turn on his heel, starting for the door as he waved a servos in the air. “Deepest apologies for wasting your time, and for anything else idiotic I have said in the past few micro-cycles, and the cycles prior to it.”
The second his wings are released, the Seeker lets out a soft noise of disappointment and relief. He turns to face the Doctor again, face pinched into disapproval - before he can finally sigh. As the red mech retreats, a claw darts forward, curling against the other's shoulder to yank him backwards. Optics are narrowed, but it's not in contempt - merely slightly embarrassment. "Take me to my quarters."
Lip plates tug into a frown, feet carrying him across the room. Digits reach out to the very tips of Starscreams wings, apparently now, eyeing the work Soundwave had done to the Seekers wing to repair what he had not been allowed to. “Shoddy job, this…” Of course, he was saying that out of extreme jealousy.
The second digi fall upon his sensitive wings, the Seeker is rigid, exhaust falling from olfactory sensors and his legs going ramrod straight. Immediately, he heats up, and goes perfectly still. "It's a perfectly good job. Soundwave fixed it just fine." If he moved the wrong way, Knockout might grab - and that was the last thing he needed.
"Hm, well, it is my specialty,” Knockout pushed himself upright and to his feet, preening himself, lips drawing thin as he watched the silver Seeker.
His wings are taught against ridging, standing as high as they possibly could given the circumstances. He was obviously still livid. "You should still leave."
Electrifying blue energon leaks from punctured neck-cables. Smearing over sullen ash and violet armor plates. The thin copper wiring within his visible optic stretches; those small coils becoming taunt as that molten hued optic widens. Drinking in an expression of broken frustration and out right resentment from the silver mech. In that moment the thin wiring contracts — that singular optic narrowing and focusing solely on Starscream.
Soundwave watches intently as more pathetic prattle befalls from the others vocoder. Accusations that he knew not of the pain inflicted upon the other. While he listens — allows the air commander his moment of falsified rebuttal; his feelers grip to the living metal of the first lieutenant’s frame. Snaking around the opposing leg, tightening over the aviary’s hip-joint like a vice.
No. He didn’t need to feel Starscream’s pain to understand it. The sickening jet was always so wrapped up in himself to realize the position he placed others in. The tortures other ‘cons undertook and endured each and every time this unruly piece of scrap hatched another plan to over throw their Ruler. Each and every betrayal sentenced another to death. Forced some other ‘con into playing the scapegoat. An outlet of the gladiator’s anger.
It wickedly bemused the communication’s chief that this proverbial piece of junk never took the time to process why he refused to climb rank. Why the silent ‘con remained tall and sturdy while so many crumpled into rust. Jarring scars accented his armor now, chunks of plates had disintegrated over the years. New alignments added to his exoskeleton all because this pathetic excuse of trash considered himself ingenious. He stood in Starscream’s would be place, and unflinchingly received that monstrous wrath on numerous occasions.
Soundwave’s movements are fluid, every inch of him radiates infuriating anger as silence consumes them. Leaning dangerously close to the other’s mug. Shattered glass hovers mere inches from the other’s helm. How many times had he withstood Starscream’s belittling. Endured those moments when this horrid ‘con accused him of being nothing more than a drone. Bent on following Megatron’s every command. When he, in fact held motives of his own. Hidden to the untrained optic.
The silence is deafening as he lingers before the jet.
Soundwave’s well aware that Starscream had fallen limp. That one tactic the jet believes will save him. An outtake of exhaust leaks from the lean ‘con. Fogging his visor and dissipating over Starscreams face-plate. A servo lurches forward; the only sound accompanying the movement is that of a gust of wind. Digi grip fast to his captive’s jaw. Exerting enough pressure to crack the living metal flanking his digi.
The embodiment of pure loathing radiates from his core; There is but one major difference between the two. Where one cowers, and waits to attack. The other strikes on point. FEEL THIS, WORM
Without warning; the digi gripping fast to Starscream’s jaw releases the splintered metal. Only to find it’s next target — the base of the air commanders left wing. There’s no hesitation within the silent mech. The smaller femme attached to his frame reverberates to life and separates from him. The restricting tenti’s around said wing lessen; however those clinging to the commander’s hip-joint constricts more so: crushing the inline, bolts, and cables. In the process his servo’s digi pierce through the protoform of the wing, and in one swift motion he tears the mech into three.
There’s little to no revel as he watches the remainder of the other’s frame clatter into the tiles. Laserbeak screeches as she swoops inward, capturing the prized wing within her maw; only to thus fly into the rafters overhead. The tentacles withering just above Starscream release his leg, and that too lands alongside the other. Soundwave stares downward at the display. Knowing that the damage is not nearly enough to cull this pathetic excuse of a Cybertronian. A servo uplifts, gesturing to his visor, then to the other’s broken frame.
The message: You’ve broken my things. ——I’ve broken yours.
He was a Prince once. Starscream, Seeker, Scientist, Prince of Vos. Swiftest and smartest among his brothers. He had been mighty - ingenious - at the top of his game. And then Vos had gone down in flames. He had stopped pretending that his dazzling adoration of Megatron had been anything but. The extension of second in command was nothing he could ignore. The mighty High Protector had taken an interest in the slim Prince of Vos. Nobody could ever have denied Starscream the access to his pride, to his crippling devotion. He'd always wanted power, always yearned for it. But it had only been when his faithful leader had started down the path of crazed madness had his desires changed. Once upon a time, he would not have been treated this way. Once upon a time, Soundwave would have not been allowed to touch him. But once upon a time, he would have not felt violence towards the other. Now, here they were, dangerous tenti around a long leg and a face against his own. The Seeker was shaking - fear, rage, agony... it all pulsated through him, shooting a vicious glow within his spark. Desperation, adrenaline... That molten eye had him frightened, attempting to lean away. Soundwave was unpredictable, his loyalties absolute... and they did not lay in Starscream's hands. A pathetic whimper leaves him the second a tenti finds his wing. Delicate touches were warranting of arousal, but anything beyond could have him screaming. Seeker's were built for swift flight and as a result the sensitivity of their wings was incredibly high. A simple bend in them, and they could not sore at optimal conditions. Soundwave's touch was ruining a few flight sensors, causing the silver mech to cease movement entirely. "Soundwave...." A desperate warning. "No." The agony the tears through him is not the worst that he has felt, but it runs a close second. The scream that rips from his vocoder is shrill and glass shattering, reverberating through his audials as white hot pain rips through his processor. Optics blacken almost instantly, bright energon oozing almost artistically from a stubbed wing and a torn leg. The sensors fall offline, and for the briefest of seconds - so does Starscream. When he comes to it's with a gasp of pain. Crimson optics are dim, pained, as he glances towards his torn leg and finally upwards towards his wing. Had he not been in such agony, a shot might have been fired directly into stupid Razorbeak's direction. Finally, his gaze falls upon Soundwave once again, and he's shivering - almost cold. The pool around him is growing rapidly, one wing fluttering pathetically. He needs Knockout, and he needs him immediately. But strangely, the urge to call their Doctor isn't there. "You don't understand." He says it again, once commanding voice exhausted and in agony. Sensors are in overdrive, body working double time to preserve his essence. "I was a Prince once. I was royalty. I adored our... fearless leader. His cause was righteous. His leadership absolute." His helm connects with the wall behind him. "He has been driven mad by his need to kill the Prime. He has forgotten that all we want is to go home. I have not. But it has changed me." A wince, and he reaches outwards, one claw reaching to cover the oozing leg wound. He can't feel it anymore. "Have you forgotten, Soundwave? Have you forgotten home?" He gestures towards the door, voice weak and uncommanding. "Get out. You are dismissed."
