#silent-stalker

[voidwingsprime]

Txt: what was your Megatron like? - Lazerbeak

A pain in my aft. - Starscream.

(Been wanting to give a more in-depth answer but my pain levels and the muse isnt co-operating)

[askarcee]

"For the record, it would sound exactly like this:

'No, Soundwave. Please Don't offline me. No.' " And now she's laughing, harder than she has all week.

[voidwingsprime]

There's a groundbridge opening up and three deployers being (gently) pushed through. Laserbeak promptly flies to Void to hand over her datapad, with the message "We've been sent here to be babysat while our Creator attempts a social life. Hi! :D" Behind her, coming at a much more relaxed pace, is Rumble holding onto the still very small, wriggling form of Nightshade. The younger deployer is waving his sticky feet at Void, beeping insistently for attention from his favorite Not-Carrier. // :D good luck Void

Frenzy is cackling.

Void is suffering. So much.

Nightshade is currently stuck to zir face-screen. Such a sticky little one. Zir claws scritch the beeping child as it noms on a rubbery ball filled with energon.

Ze is buried up to zir neck in rubber balls, in the ballpit.

What does one do with random sparklings?

You throw them inside a ballpit! With live prey.

There's a weak drooling mech with its optics gouged out. It's spark is sputtering, and but ze has it hooked up to an energon feed to keep it online.

Zir Rumble is gnawing on one limb that he tore off, while Ravage is chewing through its stomach cables.

[voidwingsprime]

Void is too busy gaming in Diablo 69 to know of the chaos that ze wrought with one simple inquiry. How was ze supposed to know this would cause the two of them a relationship crisis? You either produced baby or you did not.

[voidwingsprime]

WOW BOSS, YA MIGHT BE SINGLE-HANDEDLY RESPONSIBLE FOR US GETTING MORE COUSINS! -Frenzy

*eating energon flakes* TIME TO SET UP THE BETTING TABLE! - Rumble

[askarcee]

silent-stalker

The touch to bared, scarred faceplates had Soundwave frozen. Digits so gentle, barely touching upon the edges of his scar - all he could was stare in unrestrained shock. Exposed violet optics wide with disbelief - could Arcee truly not see what he was? Open and laid bare without his visor to shield him, could this little two-wheeler not comprehend that no matter how polite he could be, how fragile he seemed now, that he was a murderer?

Everything about him screamed predator; the four optics meant to see his victims in the dead of night, the teeth that could so easily bite off the hand caressing his face - and yet, no fear.

Soundwave let his optics shut, and leaned into her touch, arm rising so he could curl thin digits around her hand.

“I’m s-sor-sorry,” His voice is cracking, breaking, becoming disjointed and distorted by a painful attempt to say something that means something. It’s a wonder the words are even coherent, with that amount of static. “You des-deserve b-be-better.”

"Nah," Arcee said, sounding tired; Not of him, but of the same things that made him weary. "I think I'm getting just what I need." She left the statement open for interpretation, not having the energy to elaborate further. The tatty texture of Soundwave's scar scratched the pads of her fingertips, and for a moment, she'd considered leaning in for a closer look.

Arcee did see everything Soundwave was. And despite her relaxed posture, she knew the danger she was in; she'd always known. At any moment, Soundwave could throw his attempted truce out the window and retreat to the shell of his comfort zone. Pick her up like the glorified paperweight she was, open her, and spill her life over the floor. Arcee knew she didn't have the firepower to stop him, and these days, she was uncertain if she had the willpower either.

"You don't have to apologize," She said, shaking her head as she thumbed over the stretch where the cut had to have sunken the deepest. She appreciated his attempt at speaking verbally, the jungle of static and hoarse stutters that threaded his words. She had no problems understanding him, and thought no less of him for how he sounded, what would be pity replaced by an unending desire to turn who caused him to sound this way into tar. "We're kinda similar, you and I," A ghost of a smile raising the bolts on her profile. "You're a miserable pile; I'm a miserable pile. Seems like a match made in heaven to me."

One of these days, someone was going to beat her good for that mouth of hers, and she'd welcome it if they could ever catch her. Wit as a coping mechanism was one of Arcee's favorites, even if it got her many a stern talking to in her youth about "sensitivity".

"Besides, I can say the same thing about you."

[askarcee]

silent-stalker”

// Meme

The sound he makes lacks any and all elegance, something between a low chuff and a snort. How he managed that with broken vocals is something he isn’t even sure, but he’ll ponder it later. For now, he has a little blue motorcycle using him as a…couch apparently. Cute. Almost the right size, too.

“Arcee: must be very tired.” He’s going for a gentle teasing here, thin digits gently, almost playfully poking Arcee in the side as if to prove his point. “Soundwave: all sharp edges and poky bits; not comfortable; however. Request: don’t get up; you’re warm.”

"I've slept on literal rocks before; I think I can handle a plane that talks too much," Arcee said, smirking at the way her legs dangled over Soundwave's. The 'pokey' bits didn't bother her, she'd been in situations more uncomfortable, and Soundwave's frame was one she was used to being around. It also helped that her 'pokey' bit was currently back at the apartment, brainstorming over a novella. 

"Jokes on you, I'm always tired," She said, chuckling. "I don't plan on moving. Not any time soon." The time she could spend with Soundwave was short, far too short, but a part of Arcee's processor insisted that this pushed her to savor the time she was allowed, or maybe she read too many romance books. Condor caught wind of her loneliness years back and recommended her reading material. To this day, she isn't going to tell him that she not only consumed the media but enjoyed it. 

Knowing that damnable bird, he'd probably flare his wings and talk about how right he knew he was in that punchable posh accent. While annoyed at how well Condor read her, Arcee would be willing to admit—to herself, at least— that the novels have been giving her more amorous thoughts. And the proximity she had with the other mech wasn't helping. 

"You're cute when you're coy." Arcee's index finger crossed over Soundwave's chest. "And for the record, I find you very comfortable."

[bngbby]

Query: should one consider week long memory gaps as a bad thing? Soundwave: asking for a friend.

                    SILENCE STRETCHES OUT, swallowing up the space between. When it seems as if he will never answer, he finally speaks. Digits stilling and coming to rest on the desk. ❝ Have you- ❞ He taps his digits, one at a time, along the desk. ❝ Nevermind, you phrase that like it’s been an on-going issue… It’s probably not a good thing. ❞

He was one to talk though, with his fragmented and broken memories.