I can see certain bots having that certain charisma… and successfully and thoroughly, they have consummated with their lovely little conjunx
Said conjunx now has the duty to inform their higher ups of the change of situation and also explain the heavily disheveled clothes, sex hair, and prominent blush over the whole affair and possibly any visible claiming marks from their new conjunx
• “Good morning,” you call out as you pull the cart of energon and supplies into his stall and the massive blue mech is on his peds, so still as his head tips slightly and he’s reaching. And you’re not even surprised when his servos close on you and your feet leave the ground while he growls, his other hand cupping against you. Apparently, he’s missed you as his mask retracts and his mouth brushes your torso. Laying a hand on his warm face as he vents and nuzzles against you, your body heats. Wasn’t expecting your assigned mech to be so tactile, but you’re hardly complaining. Poor guy seems almost touch starved.
• Venting against his little arranged conjunx, a servo slides against your delicate neck, trying to mine your emotions. But you’re not scared of him. Haven’t been since the first day when you’d approached him, so small and uncertain, your fear needling him into trying to coax you to get it to stop. Had been almost a physical assault on him, making him anxious. Once you’d calmed down? He’d been fascinated with your softness, the ever shifting kaleidoscope of your emotions and thoughts. His tiny conjunx. Feels you rest your forehead against him. “Bath time, big guy?”
• Smiling as he grumbles, that hum building inside you until you feel almost breathless. Before he sits and eases you down on your feet, his visor dimming slightly like he’s disappointed. Mixing soap and water, you grab a microfiber sponge and tuck a couple of soft rags in your back pocket. And he bends to lift your bucket onto the bench before his servos are lifting you up with him.
• Head turning to watch you bend to dunk your sponge, he rumbles when you lean against his thigh to start washing his hand where he’d rested it on his leg. Frame trembling at the feel of you carefully working on his joints, every slide of your soft body against him spins him tighter. You’re trying so hard to win him over. To prove you’re a worthy conjunx, but he’s already decided. Hand lifting, he carefully picks you up and you’re so small in his hand, so fragile. And you gasp when he mass shifts, settling you in his lap straddling him, hand lingering against your hip.
• Laughing in shock, you stare up at him as he just stares back. Had no idea he could do that. Flushing, you slide the soapy rag over his chassis and your breath catches at the feel of his mask retracting and his mouth on your throat, denta grazing your skin. And you’re pretty sure this isn’t exactly what your higher ups had in mind, but they had said to keep your assigned mech happy. A big hand palms your butt and squeezes to make you squirm where you’re straddling him. When he growls, it rumbles through you like you’re pressed up against a speaker, which you suppose isn’t too far off considering what he transforms into.
• Rumbling softly as he vents to pull your scent deep, his servos tug at your coverings to try and figure out the closures. Needs more contact. Every day almost torture feeling your weak field, your wild emotions sinking into him as you wash him. Becoming an addiction. Hadn’t been able to resist mass displacing today, to feel you against his frame. And your need spills into him as he groans against your neck. You’re his. Given to him to keep. A little conjunx when he’d never really intended to take one. Much less an alien, organic. “Mine,” he growls.
• Arching at the feel of his denta gently pressing bites against your neck and shoulder, you can feel his big hands impatiently struggling with your clothes. And the possession in that one word leaves you breathless. Realizing you want that. Want him. His silence and the way he’s watched your every move had scared you at first, but he’s never been anything but gentle with you. Affectionate. Reaching up. You pull the zipper on your jumpsuit down and his visor brightens watching it slide down, a big hand pushing it off your shoulders as he freezes and you wonder if you misread the situation completely. But then you’re holding his helm against yourself as his mouth slides against you as he bares your skin and you’re being shifted. Your back finding the bench as your boots are tugged off and those strong servos finish stripping you, his big frame caging you. “My conjunx,” he snarls and you have no idea what that means, but his mouth is on the move, sliding down your body and you really don’t care that much about the weird word.
• You’re so soft all over, alien and strange. Almost unsettling as his mouth and hands explore you and he vents, chasing the scent of your need. Servo stroking you, his lips follow and you whimper his name, little hands clinging to him. Accepting his claim. Glossa tunneling inside you, he listens to your noises get more urgent as his hands keep sliding against you, your thighs, hip, belly. Can’t stop chasing the feel of you and the high of your mind inside his. And he groans, releasing his spike when you shatter against his mouth.
• Head falling back to stare at the metal ceiling high overhead, your heart is racing while you try to figure out how a giant, alien robot just made you climax harder than you’ve ever come in your life. And he’s shifting over you, feel the burn of him stretching you and your chin tucks against your chest, seeing his spike pulsing with biolights slowly disappearing inside you and there’s no time to be shocked that he has a spike at all. His servos squeeze your butt as he fills you and it vibrates through you when he groans to make you whimper. Hips pumping slowly as if he’s savoring the feel of you like you’re enjoying the slide of him inside you, before he’s finding a rhythm. Moving more urgently and you’re winding back up faster than you thought possible. Leg hooking against his waist, you feel his denta pressing more bites, his mouth sealing against them to suck and leave hickies everywhere.
• Thrusting inside your slick heat as you gasp and moan his name, he drives deep and grinds against you, frame straining before he’s rutting inside you. Hears you cry out and fist him so tightly it’s hard to keep thrusting, shaking on a snarl with his overload, he slides an arm under you to pin you against him while he fills you. And he shifts his plating to fully claim you, hears you gasp as his spark arcs and for a klik he’s afraid there’s nothing to bond to, but then you’re spilling into him to fill him with you as his spike swells inside you.
• Trembling feeling his heat pulsing inside you as he keeps releasing, you hang onto him as he wraps you in heat and warmth. Safety and home. He’s everywhere. Everything. His memories and thoughts so eldritch as they sink into you and you realize he can see yours, too. It should be terrifying to be seen like this, to have no secrets, but it’s oddly freeing. Feeling him coaxing, asking something that you don’t really understand, but you reach out in return anyway, chasing that sense of home that’s him. Needing it and you both jolt. Only dimly aware of his mouth on yours, of his spike still hard inside you and you’re tangled so deeply in him it’s hard to remember you’re separate from him. And you wonder how you’re going to explain this to your boss and decide you really don’t give a damn. Doubt Soundwave is going to let them fire you at this point. “Mine,” he rumbles, the words gentler, no longer a demand and he sounds so satisfied you flush. ‘Yours,’ you agree and your heel slides against the bench when he jerks against you, releasing a third time with a growl to leave you feeling overly full and you dimly realize he’s knotted inside you and you’re probably not going anywhere anytime soon.
I had a funny thought .. ok so like tfp Soundwave we know used to be a big beefy boi right? Now, due to the reaper drone alt, he's pretty thin and lanky right? Can you imagine his human somehow or another finding a picture of his old form and being all. "Oh hot damn 😳"? Blame knockout or starscream or Lazerbeak for that even happening 🤣🤣🤣
Ooooorr it could be an alt version where he never lost his beefy frame and so that's how he is on earth 😆😆
He is lovely. Sparked reader
Protective
TFP Soundwave x Reader
• Tendrils flaring and writhing anxiously at your sharp gasp and the way you lunge to your feet, eyes wide before realizing it’s him. And it leaves him feeling guilty that he hadn’t been able to warn you that he was going out to find and scan a more substantial altmode. Had needed to after sparking you, so paranoid and desperate to protect his family after losing so much already. Can’t come back from that a second time.
• Heart racing as you stare at him, your skin prickles even as you force a smile. Because he’s almost tripled in size, bulking up and his head tips slightly in question. “You just surprised me,” you reassure him. Had caught movement from the corner of your eye and turned, only registering the size of who had come in to the habsuite. And he’s approaching slowly, reaching a servo out to press against your chest as his tendrils move restlessly feeling your rapid heartbeat.
• Head lowering as he bends, you reach up for him, little hands on his visor as you press your forehead against him, eyes closed. Sifting through the rapid fire, chaos of your thoughts to try and decide if you’re actually okay with his new form, he slides a tendril against your leg. Nudging you with his head in amusement when he catches the shift of your thoughts, you smile sheepishly. Apparently approving of this form.
• “What?” You laugh as he flashes you a smiley face emoji, your face flushes. “Don’t listen in on my thoughts.” There’s no real heat in the protest, though. Because he understands you better than you understand yourself sometimes and your mind had gone to imagining that big, new frame against you. Shivering as another tendril slowly wraps up your leg, you heat in response.
• Feels Lazerbeak undock with a disgusted noise, winging out of the habsuite and he settles a knee on the berth to mass shift. Head tipping as you smile and lean back when he stalks you, slowly snaring you in his tendrils. And he’s reaching out to cup your cheek in his long servos, visored face brushing against yours. Those soft hands run over him, mapping out his new form through touch as he vents slowly.
I love how you guys have graduated to chucking whole human beings at me now. Out of curiosity, is he in his mid to late thirties and cute by any chance? 🤣
Protective Pt 3
TFP Soundwave x Reader
• Stretching as you come awake, when you push up slightly, the blanket he’d draped over your body slides down and you hear Lazerbeak croak at you, snarling ‘naked’ at you in what sounds like Starscream’s voice as he shuffles so his back is to you. Rolling your eyes, you wrap the blanket around yourself since you have no idea where your clothes ended up. “Is Soundwave out?” You call up to him and he ignores you, but that’s hardly new. Only marginally nicer to you since Soundwave had bonded and sparked you, he still doesn’t actually like you.
• Pinching the tiny bag in a grasper, he can smell the human food and it’s not exactly appealing, but it’s things he knows you like. Things he’s found you before using his avatar to “purchase” a meal and tricking the card reader into believing currency was exchanged. Letting himself into his habsuite, he hears you trying to coax Lazerbeak down by asking him ‘who’s a pretty birdie’ in your sweetest voice and he vents. Because you still wonder why Lazerbeak messes with you every chance he gets. Though, he knows without a doubt that his drone will protect you and his sparkling if you’re in danger. “Welcome home,” you say when you notice him, eyes dropping to the bag.
• Smiling when he flashes that little smiley face emoji, dangling the bag right in front of you, as soon as you reach for it, he snares you with another tendril and you hear his drone’s disgusted hiss as you nearly lose your blanket. And Soundwave is climbing up and mass shifting, movements slower than normal. Making you sure his new, bigger frame is taking some getting used to. Trying to cover some of your assets with the blanket as Soundwave gets settled and eases you down in his lap, you lean to grab for the bag and he pulls it away, head tipping. Feeling playful, apparently.
• Relenting when you huff at him, he presses the bag into your hands. Watching you tear it open and unwrap your food. “You’re a fantastic husband,” you say, taking a bite as his servos brush against your back. Mining your field to make sure you’re really alright. Knows he’s being paranoid, but he can’t help himself. Can’t stop worrying about you or the new spark. Feels you squirm to get comfortable in his lap, head leaning back against his chassis as you eat and he dips a grasper into the bag to snag one of your slices of fruit, watching you wrinkle your nose before leaning forward to take the bite from him. Chewing and swallowing before making a face. “I usually eat those last,” you mumble and his head tilts.
• You can’t help but think of a massive owl when he tips his angular head at you like that. And his bulkier frame just makes the illusion more prominent to make you smile. “Dessert,” you explain, holding up an apple slice as he stares at you. “Hashbrowns and apple slices need to be kept strictly separate,” you add, tone serious. Watching his plating lift and settle, he clears his vents at you. Making you wonder if he thinks you’re just picky. As far as you can tell, he only consumes energon. Somehow. He’s weirdly private about it and won’t eat around you, driving you crazy with the mystery of if something’s under that visor. If there’s a face he’s hiding from you, but you never pester him about it. Letting him keep his secrets.
Hi Revel! 👉👈💕 Could I ask when we can expect some TFP Opti? 🥹🩷
Now?
🔞🌶️ storyline, eventual sparked reader
The Place That Makes Me Happy
TFP Optimus x Reader
• Engine roaring as he tries to catch up with the three Vehicons on the lonely stretch of road, frustration strings him tight. His team’s been run nearly ragged trying to clean up and do collateral damage lately. More and more Vehicons being spotted on the roads and in the town in packs. And now they’re tearing down walls in human businesses while the town is sleeping to steal things, leaving the Autobots to try to hack or destroy security cameras and their footage, because the Vehicons don’t seem to care if they’re seen by humans. Knows it’s only a matter of time until Fowler gets wind of it and throws a fit.
• And he can’t figure out what their play is here. Stealing food, cases of water, but also hitting up clothing, home goods, and other stores. Making him worry that the Decepticons might be kidnapping and keeping humans. Possibly experimenting on them. Something he can’t allow, and dread sinks icily into his spark when he thinks of the three kids in his care being harmed. Growling softly, he pushes himself to go faster, to catch up with the smaller, faster Decepticons.
• Sees them spread out into the oncoming lanes to make a wedge and he knows before he even sees the little red car come over the next hill. Too far away to do anything but watch. Hears the human blare their horn, then swerve to avoid a collision, car bouncing off the road and flipping. And he snarls, transforming and lunging after it, sliding down the side of the embankment as the Vehicons race away. Because this is more important.
• Tasting blood where you bit your lip when the airbag deployed and smacked you in the face, everything is a confused, painful blur. And you’re upside down, belt digging painfully into you. Fumbling to get the thing off, panic claws at your mind, because don’t care sometimes catch on fire in crashes? Or explode? You really hope that’s just Hollywood BS, but you’re scared to find out the hard, very final way. Gasping when the car rocks and is lifted up and through the windows you see- legs? Everything turning sickeningly before the car is set back on its tires and you shove at the rapidly deflating airbag to stare up through the broken windshield at a blue and red metal giant staring down at you. With an equally huge sword nearly as long as your car.
• Relaxing some as you move around, mouth and chin bloody, but alert, he sheaths his sword after checking that the Vehicons didn’t stick around to take a shot at him while his back was turned. And you’re still for all of a klik before your face smacks into the steering wheel, body going limp. Did you just die? Gritting his denta, he kneels and carefully pries off the roof of your car. He can’t figure out how to undo your belt, so he just tears the thing loose and brushes a servo against your jaw and neck. Feels a rhythm there under your skin, but has no idea if it’s normal or not. But you’re alive. And he can’t just leave you out here. Venting tiredly, he lifts you free and carefully transforms around you. Ratchet will know what to do.
Might I offer you the idea of writing about Metroplex? He doesn’t get enough love!
I can try, he’s sorely underused in TF media and what I know boils down to huge, but gentle. 🔞🌶️ storyline, eventual sparked reader
I Can Feel You
Metroplex x Reader
• Under your feet, the ground hums with a barely felt vibration that travels up through the soles of your shoes until you can feel it in your bones. Reaching out, you run your fingertips along the wall of the nearest building, the metal warm and alive. Because the city is alive, somnolent. Metroplex. You’ve heard the Autobots talking about the massive Cybertronian before. That the titan is aware of them, evident in the way a building will sometimes reshape itself. A walk way appearing where needed if Metroplex approves of you or just likes you. You talk to the huge Autobot sometimes, feeling a bit silly as you relay your day. Not even really sure why you started doing it, but there’s something about the big Cybertronian that just seems so lonely. If Metroplex is aware, he’s probably sick of hearing you ramble.
• As small as all the Cybertronians calling him home are, there’s an organic even tinier among them. Someone that actually talks to him, asking him questions and keeping him anchored when his mind drifts. He cares for them all, but when everyone talks about him like he’s not really there, someone speaking to him means so much. He’s everywhere, but a part of nothing. The Cybertronians he protects and shelters living lives he’s not a part of, watching but isolated. It’s a burden he’d accepted, until you.
• The touch of a tiny, little hand against him. That soft voice focusing him as he tracks you. Quietly moving obstacles out of your way, sliding a sidewalk under your feet when you’re about to round a corner and meet up with a bigger bot who’s unaware that you’re there. You make a startled noise, arms pinwheeling for balance as you’re gently redirected away from potential danger. And you smile for him. Thank him, warmth spreading through his spark. They’re all his to protect, but you? Always a priority.
I showed my lil madam cat the last time, but here is,
THE RAT!!!
Twilight also know as Bunnit. Raised him from three weeks old and he is a lil shit and I love him so. XD Wildcard, whatever Mech you want to write a drabble or continue a storyline. 👀
Cute! I know a few folks had asked about Merformers for May, so I cannibalized a fantasy shapeshifter story I’d started and never finished from my PC. This will probably end up a reverse harem with Star, Sounders, and Shocky to be honest
🔞 🌶️ storyline, eventual sparked reader
Seek and Destroy
Merformers Megatron x Reader
Monstrous form rolling lazily in the cold water, Megatron’s red eyes drift to the surface. To the sun shimmering and distorted high above. Painful to his eyes even with the barrier of the water. Tempting him. Because it would be so easy to break the surface. Let the sun end it. Shear the flesh from bone and burn him to ash. Quick and, just maybe, painless. Deserves it for failing them, but he can’t abandon his duty. Can’t stop.
So he dives instead, cutting down into the familiar embrace of the ocean. Small, silvery fish dart out of his wake, fleeing the predator in their midst. And he ignores them despite the hunger gnawing at him. Seeing how long he can deny it’s become habit. A game to break up the monotony of eternity of his self imposed isolation. Can sense others in the distance, their songs and fields so close it hurts and he ignores that, too. Can’t give in to that sweet coaxing, the urge to start over. Join a pod, raise young. Can’t lose a family all over again and he wonders what happened to the remnants of his pod. The other hunters who’d been away. Who’d failed to protect the weak and young left behind. Wonders how many of his brothers gave in to despair and beached themselves. Chose the sun over the grief.
Skimming the bottom, his clawed hands dig into the sand to make it cloud the water and send small crustaceans fleeing. Tail lazily cutting through the water, he turns deeper, eyes adjusting easily to the familiar darkness. Following the bottom until the water grows warmer. Keeping low, because his massive silvery shape catches the light too well. Gives himself away.
Heat sears him as he glides over the gaping mouth of an open vent, the ocean tinged with sulfur until it nearly drowns out the scent of everything else.
Almost.
Can taste the distortion and wrongness. It’s electric on his tongue, like reality just stumbled. Feels it humming through his bones. A door to somewhere terrible open somewhere. A breach in reality. Claws scraping against stone, he anchors himself. He’s had a long time to learn patience.
And after what feels like forever, movement draws his eye. A spindly, black hand tipped with impossibly long claws reaching out of the vent, grasping at the rock. Whole body rigid with anticipation and purpose, he swallows a snarl. Killing the abominations Unicron keeps birthing into this place is his one and only reason for existing. Revenge to try and amend for his failures.
Bullet shaped and eyeless, its head clears the vent. The only feature the head does have is a tooth filled mouth that gapes open. A second set of spindly arms claw free, pulling the thickly muscled torso up. A long, heavy tail is the last to clear the gap. Watching it pull its legs up under its body, head swinging from side to side, hatred spins him tight. Even without eyes, a nose, or ears, the horror’s aware of its surroundings. And hungry. They’re always hungry.
Hesitant, it kicks off the bottom, drifting upward. The thing ill-suited for the depths and he knows it’ll make a beeline for the surface without fail. Go straight for easier prey, like those soft two legged monsters above. It isn’t that he cares what happens to them. Only that he despises these things far more than he does them. Because his kind, especially the young, are a favorite prey of these abominations. And he can’t suffer a single one to live. Can’t live through that nightmare ever again. Snarling, he lunges after his prey, claws extended.
And it twists in the water, kicking out with its clawed back legs to force him to change direction, circling. Sharp teeth bared, he’s definitely got the advantage as long as can keep it in the water, his sinuous form much faster. This is his world. Lashing out with his tail, he clips it and sends it spinning downward. Diving after it, claws extended as the webbing between his fingers spreads. The hard, overlapping, armored plating along most of his hide can take a lot, but those needle-like teeth can pierce it. Has the scars to remind him of that lesson. And his fins are delicate, easily torn.
Bubbles streaming from the things gaping jaws, it charges at him. And teeth sink into his tail from below. Roaring, he whips his body to get free, luminescent blood clouding the water. Two of them? No. Freezing as he sees more clawing free, horror has him by the throat. Can’t win against this many, but he can take as many down with him as he can.
Waittt I just realized at the beginning of “chain me free” it mentions reader is gonna end up sparked…curious how that gong to work in a throuple, would the sparkling end up being a mix of them both or only one mech?
I had someone ask for warnings on storylines that will have sparklings later on, so there’s spoilers now. But someone had mentioned kitten twins at some point with these two where occasionally you can get two different fathers, so yeah, they both spark reader at the same time. 🔞 mass displaced mechs 🌶️
Chain Me Free Spoiler- sparked
Cyclonus x Reader x Tailgate
• Gasping as your hips buck, you feel Cyclonus’s mouth against your neck, his arm draped across you to grip Tailgate’s shoulder as the minibot moves against you in urgent drives. Rolled on your side between them with a thigh hooked over Tailgate’s hip, you can hear his groans above his ragged venting. Head falling back against Cyclonus, your lips part on a cry when you shatter.
• Growling a protest when you come apart for him, Tailgate keeps thrusting as you squirm caught between him and Cyclonus until he’s overloading hard. Can feel your heart racing, hear you moan softly as Cyclonus reaches to tip his face up, the bigger mech’s expression vulnerable. Making him afraid Cyclonus might back out as you curl an arm around his neck, mouth brushing his mask. “Are you sure?” Cyclonus asks and you smile, teeth finding the mesh of his neck, distracting him. “We have time to wait,” Cyclonus adds and it’s not a rejection, just worry. Knows that, but it feels like a rejection. ‘I want this,’ Tailgate says, trying to not get upset. ‘I’m sure. We’re sure.’
• Optics dipping to you, Cyclonus vents as you just smile at him over your shoulder, eyes hooded. Knows you both want this, but he’s unsure. Afraid he’s too old to be a sire. Too old fashioned and unable to change with the times. But you’re both staring at him as he shutters his optics and shifts his plating to snare you. Feels Tailgate do the same, pressing closer and reaching around you as Cyclonus mimics him. Jolting when the bond shifts to encompass the three of you when he brushes his servos against Tailgate’s spark.
• You’re drowning in them. Cyclonus’s ancient, rigid thoughts and Tailgate’s quick, eagerness leaving you off balance. No matter how many times the three of you have tangled in each other like this, it’s still overwhelming. Feels like you could lose yourself inside their memories and emotions and the vulnerability of knowing they can see all of you is frightening. Nothing hidden between the three of you. Feel Tailgate coaxing you first, asking even though there’s no words and then Cyclonus joins in.
• Trembling and clinging to you and Cyclonus when you give in to them, accepting, feels the pull. Almost frightening as the three of you each lose a bit of yourselves. Hadn’t even been sure they could do this, if it would work with two mechs acting as sire, but he can feel the new spark forming and it’s a shock when it splits. Scaring him that something went wrong. That it failed, but Cyclonus is pressing the two entangled spark your way and you’re taking them, claiming them as yours. When Cyclonus releases you, it’s hard to do the same. To give up the heady feeling of you tangled in his spark. “Two?” You ask, stretching against him to make him realize his spike is still buried inside you as his engine rumbles. ‘Twin sparks,’ Cyclonus confirms, hand finding his.
twirling my hair over Kup in the breeding kink ask because I fancy all these old mechs thanks to your impeccable writing, he's just such a sad old man
He can still kick butt, though. 🔞🌶️ storyline, eventual sparked reader
Don’t You
Kup x Reader
• “Look alive, young-bots,” he growls around his cygar, as he vents on a growl and the newest recruits glance at him, then hastily back away from whatever poor bit of organic life they’ve cornered. That’s the problem with green bots. They’re awful on organic worlds, too overwhelmed with all of it and unable to resist poking at things. And striding over, he almost stumbles, because it’s not an animal they’re terrorizing. It’s a bruised and battered human, the little thing hefting a stick and terrified. “Leave ‘em be,” he snarls, shoving the nearest recruit out of his way and you’re backpedaling, eyes wide.
• Shaking, your fingers are white knuckled on the pitiful little branch you’d found. Swinging it so frantically around you as those giants had growled and prodded at you, laughing when you’d fallen more than once. And you’re scared out of your mind. Have no idea where you are or how you ended up here only that it was excruciating. Like being turned inside out. Trembling as the monster robots abruptly back away and the one striding forward isn’t as big as some of your tormentors, as he works a cigar-looking thing clenched between his denta and snarls at them. He’s obviously in charge, though. Backing away as he approaches, he makes a harsh sound that startles you and you fall over one of the thick, fleshy vines everywhere on the ground.
• Lunging as the creeper vine immediately snares you and you scream, Kup makes a grab for it and misses as you’re dragged along the ground. “Hang on, kid,” he growls, jogging after as you claw at the vine, the ground, panicking and trying to stop your slide. Your motions becoming more urgent when you look and see what the vine is attached to. Drawing his gun as you’re hauled up off the ground toward the glistening and deceptively pretty flower coiled around a nearby tree, knowing if it closes around you, that sap will glue itself to you and suffocate you before he can cut you loose. Aiming and ignoring the recruits jostling and making bets on how quickly you’ll die, he growls and fires. Wincing when you hit the mossy ground when the vine is severed.
• Breath knocked out of you, for a moment you can’t move. Fingers digging into the loam and moss, smelling dirt and the awful, rotten flesh stink of the plant. And the monster with the metal cigar is picking his way toward you, carefully avoiding the vines. Try to push yourself up right. To run. “You take off into an alien jungle running like prey, you’re not going to last a klik,” he says and you freeze. Because he’s not growling. You understand him. “Don’t know how you got here, but you better stick with me, kid.” And he crouches down, that cigar thing bobbing up and down as he chews on it. “Name’s Kup.”
• Intelligent eyes stare up at him as he holds out a servo. Half expects you to start crying or to bolt into the jungle anyway. But your tiny hand is warm when you reach out and let him carefully help you up. And you’re filthy, a dark splotch on one cheek that better not be from one of the recruits, your coverings torn. Tensing when you curl your arms around his servo, hanging on to him. Like your life depends on it and really it does. None of those young-bots have ever seen a human before. Have very little respect for organics. But how in the Pit did you get out here?
