#humblemachine

[hislittlelegacy]

The moment the space bridge fired up and whirred with life was the moment Quickshaft plastered himself to the window, cooing in awe and staring at the swirling wall of colors with wonder. He was vaguely aware of his creators sitting off to the side of him on the couch, talking and snickering amongst themselves about whatever it was he was doing that was so funny to them, and had stopped paying attention to them long ago. They never gave him a direct answer about what was so funny so the space bridge held the majority of his attention and would have it for as long as it whirled with life.

He lost his mind though when Crossfire finally went through the portal, plunging the family into the sea of swirling green, white, and blue colors which elicited delighted squeals from the sparkling. Odessyx was a colorful world, full of many colorful mecha, but the rip in space and time was the brightest thing Quickshaft had ever seen before and it blew him away.

Then, as quickly as his visual feeds had been filled with color, Quickshaft was plunged into darkness and he felt lost in the pitch blackness of space until a blue arch crept into his view at the bottom of the window. His optics were immediately drawn to it and he watched as it climbed further up the window, filling it in while it pushed out the void of the universe. It took him a few moments, but as he thought about it he realized what this was and trilled in delight. “EARTH!” He shouted excitedly and his creators giggled.

“Yes.” His carrier confirmed his thoughts and gently tugged Quickshaft over to him, snuggling the youngling in the crook of his arm. “We’re finally here.”

He had been led to believe that Earth was a happy place; a good planet and a good home. But as he sat in his play corner, half listening to his creators argue in the hallway while he idly played with his toys, Quickshaft began to wonder if he had been lied.

Earth seemed like such a good place though. A little quiet, maybe, but full of things like mud and ice, and tons of other things he had yet to discover. How and why a hailing ping from some mech calling himself Optimus Prime could upset his creators so badly to make them argue was beyond him but it never the less sucked. Earth was supposed to be a fun place, not... this.

Being locked in a cuddle because he had misbehaved or rolled under one of his creator’s pedes sucked, but being locked in his carrier’s room because he had to hide from Optimus Prime was the worst. Every little thing he did got him looked at by his carrier and every single time his carrier glanced at him Quickshaft felt like something was wrong, even though his carrier never said anything to him. It made him feel like his was suffocating and when he couldn’t take the tension anymore he cried out.

Naturally this summoned his carrier to him, which only added to the frustration, but Quickshaft couldn’t properly express that because managing words and emotions at the same time was impossible for the youngling. Whatever he had said though (or... didn’t say; he wasn’t sure and couldn’t really remember) prompted his carrier to leave the room in search of a remedy. Quickshaft wasn’t content with being left in the room, however, and got up to give pursuit, ignoring the gentle warnings of Crossfire to stay put.

A strange, bass toned voice brought the youngling’s meager chase to an abrupt end though and Quickshaft stood out in the hallway, frozen with fear but still too curious for his own good as he listened in to pinpoint where the voice was coming from. Before he could find it though the door to the office-living space opened and his sire stepped out with a red and blue mech who stood just a few feet shorter than her. Both of them stopped and looked at him in shock, and while he stared back at them he felt two large hands grab him by the sides and scoop him up off the floor. Crossfire murmured an apology while he cradled Quickshaft in the crook of his avatar’s arm, then hurriedly carried the youngling back into his carrier’s room before either his sire or the mech she was with could comment. Quickshaft didn’t even get the chance to look back on them either as the door to his carrier’s room slammed shut then locked into place, sealing him in with the avatar that gently set him down before disappearing.

“I hate this.” He complained softly and glared at the floor, wishing everything would just be over already.

[choochoomotherslagger]

He’d fallen asleep nestled against his monster’s neck, he knew that much. The scenery had since shifted, rough earth and violet interchanged with smooth Cybertronian metal and the distant echo of activity.

As if in a dream, his hand stretched out, grabbing hold of the bridge controls from the nearest Vehicon and pulling the lever to allow something -

someone

through.

He could hardly remember agreeing to it, but a flash of satisfaction may have made its way across his face as he slipped back into slumber beneath the console.

[therisingdarkness]

/:: Sir. I have been instructed by Redstrike to deliver a copy of my security footage from the day prior, and day off the attack based on what I could piece together from my time disabled. Within the datapacket are also copies of Blackguard's conversations with a signal we had not received until a few cycles prior to the day we lost Rigel. ::

[[Excellent. Well done, Crossfire. I will turn the footage over to my own team of analysists, and we will do everything we can to determine the identity of Blackguard’s attacker.

Trust that I am taking this incident seriously; whatever you may need during your time here, anything that might be of use to you, you need only ask for.]]

[crystallized-metal-blog]

She was up late again. Not for the first time.

It wasn’t her thoughts that kept her up late (it was still part of it though), but this strange feeling deep in her chassis. The feeling was a strange one, not something she had felt before, but at the same time there was a sort if familiarity to it as well. Like a distant memory.

At first it was easy to push this feeling off as something from her trauma. But it had been so long since all of that happened, she began to wonder about just what might have been wrong with her.

She had thought of bringing it up with Blackguard or Rigel for a long while. However, she decided against it, not wanting to burden her friends with more of her problems. Hoping that this was something temporary.

How wrong was she.

This feeling only seemed to grow stronger with the passing days, especially after Crossfire landed back on Earth, like she had gotten closer to some source.

Perhaps this had something to do with her carrier.

Blackguard had found him months ago, bringing him onto Crossfire, then the Fermi Solution, and did her best to stabilize the seeker. Starflare had begged to see him, but he was so mangled and damaged the heli refused to let the seekerling see Starscream in such a state. 

She had originally planned to see him at the hospital on Ark’s Cybertron, but so much had happened since then. With the “awakening” of Crossfire, the drama at the Aerie with Blackout and Rigel, she hardly had any cognitive capacity to think about her carrier.

That was, until now.

And so she lay awake, thinking about her carrier, wondering if he was okay. If he was even alive. 

The thought of him being possible dead brought a chill through her core.

No, no. He was alive. He must be.

But the only way to find out was to visit him.

[autobot-scout-riella]

Riella’s not exactly sure how long it took her to find the hangar again, but she still doesn’t like it. It’s cold, and dimly lit, and very, very Decepticon. Add on the fact that it’s huge, and she hurts so much she can barely walk, and it’s really no wonder she’s ready to get out now.

“All right, I made it,” she calls, to no one in particular. “Did anyone else, or am I going to have to hostage-exchange myself?”

@seeker-nightfall @roseusregina

[tailblinking]

humblemachine liked your post

Unless you’ve got any other ideas, I’m gonna continue t’ do nothin’.

[choochoomotherslagger]

humblemachine replied to your post “well MAYBE if you went out on the FLIGHT DECK and took notice of the...”

/:: Pardon? ::

................. sup, big guy? you uh, single?

[heligooddeals]

💭+ realizing crossfire was a quintesson prisoner

[MEME] 

I try not to think about it too much. It’s... heavy, and uncomfortable to think about because I had unknowingly bought him as a slave thanks to them. Because it’s not enough for them to just kidnap mecha and turn them into personal vehicles for themselves. No, they have to kidnap mecha, force them into stasis, and then sell them as vehicles or helper bots or who the frag knows what because that’s all we are to them. Tools and personal transport vehicles.

And I fragging bought him.

As a ship.

And lived in him for millions of years before, finally, someone pointed out that he was more than a cargo ship. That he was a mech locked into stasis and needed to be released. And when he woke up...

...I was scared, but not as much as he was. And that hurts. It hurts remembering how genuinely terrified he sounded while he was trying to process Socket’s docking bay and how he suddenly got there. Almost as much as it hurts to hear him now be gleeful when he suddenly pieces together a scrapped memory.

I wish I could do more for him. There’s only so much he’ll allow though and what little I can do is mostly just... talking him through things, at best.