MASTERLIST

Phew, my last weeks of work are now complete >:)

I loved Dratchet and Ratchlock since the very beginning of my attachment towards Transformers, first TFP Ratchet…..but yeah….two of my favorites character….plus Keferon’s Mech AU…..I had to make my own thing about it.

A story….no…an illustration ! I couldn’t choose. So I did both :}

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That was not the first time Ratchet came back to his private lab angry, but this time, yelling at his superiors, and at the system, and basically at evverything that could be yelled at except the pilotd while leaving the manufacture, was certainly the last. He quit. That was enough,

you don’t win a war with feelings they said

well yes,

exactly,

but you win a war with soldier, and frying their mind before they have their first fight because you want them to be more perfectionned ? That was a little counter productive.

So he gave up. They are on their own now.

The lightly humming of his car was barely enough to keep him awake, it have been a long time since he last returned home, usually, he stayed at his work place, to have more time to sleep, but then, he was sleeping even less. An endless vicious circle, things were often like that.

But all of that was over for him.

He granted these young greenhorn with his experience, and what did they do ? Ignored his advices. Sending pilots to death. So now, he had himself out of the infernal machinery. This mindless waste of human life, even where this is what they tried to save was absurd.

In the middle of his quiet and late ride, he heard a noise. Rumbling, was it the engine ? As he stopped the car backroad to check, the noise wasnt stopping. Came from the sky, military patrol ? He raised his two tired eyes on the sky and saw a shining rail approaching his forest, falling fast. Not quintesson shaped, and with the gaze of an experimented biomechanist, Ratchet identified a mech.

At this moment, its violently crashed on the ground, behind the trees at maybe three or four miles away. No matter how hard he argued with the scientist sooner this day or how bad he wanted to say fuck to all of this death industry who killed young soldiers, he could do something for the one trapped inside the mech....maybe.... the man regained his car as fast as possible and urgently headed for the crash area.

Deafened sound of tires on the damaged road. Ratchet was already projecting, mentally stocktaking the tools he took with him, and lucky enough for the poor pilot, he quit with almost all of his material, and even if it was mainly mechs repairing material, he also bought some instruments which were used for the subtle neuromedicine between human and mech. Could adapt some of it and stabilize the pilot....then he may have the time to go home and grab proper materials. If there was life there was hope.

" bold of him to crash himself just the day i insulted all of his hierachy".

He frowned. Almost there.

The trees nearby were crushed and uprooted. A flickering pink light catched his gaze.

Almost immediately, the Ratchet analyzed the mech. It was different. He didnt know in wich country it was made but that almost looks alien. The curves and shapes, busted and burned on several places were demonstrating an incredible display of genius ingeniery he could just admiring. But time was not for being amazed on plating.

Someone was trapped there.

He stopped and parked his car in front of a fallen tree, rushing to the car's trunk, taking few indispensable objets, including some of them to help a safe disconnection between pilot/mech. In case he wasnt out already. And a crowbar, the cockpit might be stuck, seeing all the damages the mech has taken...

The sound of slightly wet grass under his feet was covered by a frenetic noise of aeration. Ratchet listened to it, while cautiously approaching the unknown mech. It almost sounded like a breath, but was certainly a depressurisation issue. The mech had fallen from so high on the sky....

The damaged plating were hot, probably from atmosphere friction. He raised his crowbar and his eyes followed the curves of the chestplates, searching for a familiar shape, that could lead him to the injured pilot inside. His gaze stopped on a deep wound, that might have cut through the cockpit.

The engineer stepped on the hot metal, his thick boots preventing him from feeling the heat, and he started searching for a hint....anything that could be a mechanism, anything that could open this damn mech !

Ratchet considered the damaged chest plate he noticed earlier. The surroundings of the wound were leaking bright pink, a very unusual color for fuel. Another of these definitively strange things about the mech. Again....not the time for that. Maybe if he could widen the gap, then he would be able to have an idea of what was going on under this armor.

He tapped the plate, -it was starting to cool down- with one of his finger. It was a very little tap, but the whole mech startled. A hiss of pain, recognisible easily by an emerite engineer-but-i-fix-people-too, it had come from the head of the mecha. Was this modele controlled from the head, like Vortex ? But Vortex was insanely huge for a mech, way taller than this one. He moved careful, noticing the shaking of his support.

"You hear me, kid ? Its going to be ok. You crashed in a safe area.".

He spoke in his medic tone, wich mean, of course brusque, serious, but also reassuring and calm.

He mumbled about the mech's features and tiny words of comfort while reaching for the head.

A red light, not regular and rather epileptic was coming from the head, and while he was almost there, on all four of his limb to keep balance, Ratchet saw it.

A spectacularly humanoid face, with sculpted nose and lips was tensed in a painful expression, frowning, but the thing who trapped his gaze was the two optics....

....staring back at him.

Mechs dont stare. Their eyes are glowing, oftenly to mimick human face, after all, human are pretty prideful creature, no point in piloting big ass metal titan if no one could tell these where their creation.

What human couldnt mimick with technologie, on the other hand, was the subtle expression between trying to evualuate a threat, his own injuries, and looking rather on the verge of death but also ready to tear any enemy's limb appart with its teeth.

With just one....very long....look at the other's eye, Ratchet was suddenly understanding what was going on.

Well....probably not but he knew what he had to save.

The pilot, the pilot he had to save.

The mech was the pilot.

He was the one he had to save.

He stopped trying to -certainly- open his chest. If it wasnt good for human it probably wasnt for living technology.

The giant technological humanoid seemed in a high distress, exhaling a lot of air from his vents, his eye still intensely staring at him and the engineer doubted his usual technique -including trying to make himself as small as possible- would work.

"Its going to be okay Kid. I can help you. There is nothing here that want to harm you".

He did his best to convey all of these emotions with his facial expression and gaze, still firmly watching back at him.

"the world better wait till im home and officially retired before killing me".

The mech's gaze -damn it was so more living than ANY human made machinery- seemed to soften a bit but still radiated with suspicion.

Deadlock had been in several bad situations. It happened quite a lot when a specie of giant aliens with tendrils tried to invade your homeland, and he was ready to it.

Trained to kill, and to do it efficiently.

And he was *good* at it.

This time was just another of these ‘i went too far in my excitation’ moments, and he has crashed on a random planet he hoped was not inhabited. He landed hard, and pieces of his ship must’ve been thrown near his location.

And now, now there was an organic like no one he ever saw, and the organic was on his *lap* and he had the kindest warmest eyes he ever saw.

And these eyes were directly looking at his own eyes, and the well named ‘Deadlock’ was starting to wonder if he finally had reunited with the Allspark. His pained and tenseful grin faded a little and he tried to move his head forward, searching a better point of view to watch the singularity in front of him.

Ow.

Moving hurt.

Some sound came out of the organic’s mouth, probably a language. He didn’t had the proper tools to decode it but the tone of the language was extremely….comforting ? Soft ?

This was scary.

He wasn’t used to be welcomed like that after a fight.

Usually it was either another fight, either the yelling of a superior, either nothing at all. But this actual living being was carefully examinating his chestplates, and he recognized the gestual of someone who was used to heal. A medic perhaps ?

He tried to move something, maybe a hand, to reach for the pale organic, to be sure he was real, but his body was rather uncooperative, from what he could say, one of his legs was missing, and a lot of wound were releasing energon on the ground he couldn’t saw.

The high probabilities of bleeding out and crash was an issue.

He let his head hang, too tired to watch for every moves of the organic, and barely aware of his environment.

There must be a big problem somewhere….

He confusely thought, while watching the stars.

Must be a bigger injury I haven’t saw……..

Ratchet saw the bright light coming from the alien’s eyes slowly fading, and cold swear ran through his back. Yet, he could still say the soldier was alive, the lights of his body were shining, not a lot, but it was enough. He looked at his first aid kit with disappointment. That wouldn’t be very efficient since the form of life he was trying to preserve wasn’t a tiny human. The nearest thing he could compare the Mech to was….well their own mechs, or eventually….Quintesson. An horrible mess of organic and technology. It was partially thanks to their weird constitution that Ratchet had been able to make sense with the ‘he is alive’ thought.

At this moment and with this material, he couldn’t help the kid, and didn’t possess enough knowledge to tell if he was even dying or not.

He had already an idea of what to do….to fix him, at least trying to, but it involved several objects he hadn’t right now. Leaving to search for these so called objects was risking to let an injured alone, he couldn’t take that risk. He was trapped with the mech, and had to hurry and find something. He stood and reached for more adapted material in his car, trying to find something…. Anything.

Surprisingly, the most useful artifact he came across was his electric screwdriver and a bunch of screw along with a long metallic cabke. A parallel between human stitch, with sewing threads and the material he had with him right now. He could manage something between human fixing and mech repairing, that was what the ‘bio’ in bioengineer stood for.

The kid would be ok. He would live and tell Ratchet why he fell from the sky, and maybe if he saw his friend Jazz….out there…….

.

.

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:)) @keferon

(I swear I’m not insane, your AU is just kinda giving me infinite drawing stamina lmao)

I I MEAN... Wanted something for the soul again and MOMU has a great affect on me by slowly feeding me the ideas for animations... I'm sure Ricochet is Jazz, change my mind, I have no idea how it will turn out but MHMM I HAVE SO MUCH GOOD VIBES FOR MY BRAIN FROM THEM

Song <- clickable link

Cybertronian Colloquialisms - Primes Edition

So we've all heard "By the AllSpark!" or "What in the Pit?" or "Oh Primus" in our TF media. However, I feel like TF writers are missing out on the goldmine that is colloquialisms invoking the different Primes. So, here is a small collection of such colloquialisms, and please, feel free to add more if you have any of your own you use.

"Primus below!" - Exclamation similar to "God above!", invoking the fact that Primus is the core of Cybertron.

"Vector give me patience" - Often paired with "because if Prima gives me strength, I'm going to need bail money." The go-to for when somebot if getting on your last nerves.

"To Alchemist!" - A popular drinking toast, to thank Alchemist Prime for inventing high grade.

"The Three Below" - Refers to Solus, Onyx, and Micronus, the three Primes who formed the Well of AllSparks

"Maximum Blessings on you" - a stealth insult/curse from some dialects, where "Maximum" and "Maximo's" are nearly indistinguishable. As Liege Maximo was the Prime of Lies and Trickery, it's a fitting way to wish someone ill.

“Solus’s slag pit” - Used for something incredible, awful, and incredibly awful. Often used to refer to the latest high society fashion mess.

"Find peace or take it up with the Fallen." - In other words, calm down or screw off.

“As you say, my Liege” - A condescending remark towards a person who’s attempting to lie, cheat or mislead.

Again, if you have any primal colloquialisms you use for your fics, reblog and share them with the rest of us.

No sense here - just baby in shawl

(what if Tarantulas could knit lol)

Extra:

Tarantulas definitely knits :D

Ang layo na natin sa isa't isa, paano na?

Love Binds (Wally x Reader) Pt 3

Here is Part 3, things are getting a bit interesting, it might be a bit confusing too, I forgot to mention that I like putting references on my work sooooooooo do keep a look out for that

Would they play a part in the story? We honestly don't know-

TW: Blood, Fire, character death(s), Angst

This page has been touched by the lonely, the spiral, the end, the desolation, and the eye, please be warned

To the people that wanted to have a happy part 3, I am so so sorry to disappoint you all-

Ps: I appreciate everyone's love for the story and their patience, sorry that it took a while to post part 3 but here it is and I hope you all enjoy!

(There is a song at some point but it is more there as a sort of guide for me that I did not took out, it's called "Youth" by Daughter, lovely song by the way)

{ Part 1 Part 2 [Part 3] Part4 }

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Weeks passed and Wally had never felt so numb, once a joyous man slowly spiral down into sadness and despair. Memories of you linger around his mind, walking like it owned the place and maybe it did...Maybe you had always that effect on him, it's no wonder how you guys hit it off instantly when you two found out that the other lived in the same neighborhood even though you two barely knew each other in college. You were always a force he wasn't scared to be around with....memories of your laughter and smiles toward him were something he cherish the most.......W̴̨̤̮̭͎̋͗ͅh̷͚́͠y̷̡̟̯̰̬̿͛́̔̔̚ ̵̖̉̿ï̶̡͎̩̃̑͒̚s̸͔̥̩̒ ̵̢͚͔̟̬̪̂̓͊͂̍͝í̵̝̗͂̍̂̕ţ̴̉̄͊̚̕ͅ ̶̼̘̜́s̵͉͈̝̑̏͂̒̔̕o̵͖̻̊̍͋̆̀̍ ̸̫̻̟͕̭̒̽̋͗̍̐h̵͚̎̿̚ḁ̵̢͔̩̗̪̈̃̐̋r̸̲͍̻̃͊d̴͚̮̤̣̓ ̴̻̺̻̥̞̏̑͒̍ͅt̶̩̦̟̃̉́o̶̦̩̝̪̳̮͑̒̃̓͠ ̷̤̮̼̽̇͒̾ȓ̴̗̗̬̞ͅḛ̵̼̯͒m̷̖͈̟̻̞̎͠e̸̪̥̅̃͘m̴̫̜͈̺̻͖̉̉̿̐̚b̷̞͚̟̫̩̌̅̿̆ẻ̸͈͓̱̙̫̠̈͆̇r̶͎͔͔̣̰̈́̈́?̵̨̻̩͙̟͉̌̄̿̍̀.̷̡̛̤̦̦̀̿͊̈́̆ͅ.̶̢͙̤̟̬̎͜.̶̨̟̭̙̰͎́͐̇̀͌

As time moves, regret and anger filled him, not towards you....never towards you...he...he cares too much to even direct that to you...

It was towards himself...He was careless, he lost you and he didn't even notice it, did not notice it until it was too late. He had reached a point where he refused to interact with anyone, just staying inside his home and wallowing in this sadness and grief he feels. When all of your friends found that, they were shocked then slowly....they realized the things he had realized...At first, they thought he was pulling a joke, but there was no laughter nor were there in smiles in the first place...

Wally's friends would try their best to get him to leave his home but after the second week, all had decided to leave Wally on his own, and let him process things at his own pace oddly enough, Wally appreciated that, he needed to process things, get his thoughts right.

But Veronica would visit him to check on him, she doesn't try to coax him out of his house but she would accompany him, making sure he doesn't feel lonely. Wally would allow it, welcoming his friend inside his home and the two would either talk or just sit in silence, a comfortable silence as Wally either paints or simply just sit down to gather his thoughts.

And the cycle would repeat, a routine he and Veronica had fallen in. He appreciated it, not saying he doesn't appreciate his other friends' efforts but he wants someone that wouldn't just make him pull himself together just cause. So Veronica just simply accompanying him was enough for him.

More time passes and he longs for you, he longs for that laughter of yours, your silly jokes, your presence. Why did everything end like this? How did everything end like this?...

He's not sure anymore...

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Shadows settle on the place that you left Our minds are troubled by the emptiness

Wally stood in the middle of the room, looking at you. You stood in front of Wally with a sad look, hugging yourself as the room is filled with mist and fog, cradling you as if you were its child. 

Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time From the perfect start to the finish line

Slowly, you turn you back on him, walking into the thick fog. He tried to grab you, follow you as the mist slowly engulf you. He called out your name, begging you to come back. With one final look at Wally, you walk into the fog, an acceptance to the situation you were in.

And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones 'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs

Wally falls on his knees, sobbing and breathing heavily as the fog hugs him, cold and damp just as how he remembers. He cried out, wanting this feeling to stop. He falls on the hardwood floor as darkness clouded his vision.

Setting fire to our insides for fun Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong

Shooting up, he gasp, looking around as smoke filled the room. Coughing, he tried to stand up and look around. The room was engulfed in fire. He called out to someone...a name he can't seem to remember...

Running up the stairs, looking and shouting a name he can't hear himself say but he's saying it, and his crying as he says it.

Pictures of people that he feels like he knows hang on the walls. One where there was a man and a woman with him, both seems to look just like him.

One was where it seem to be when he was young, barely seven...that's specific...

He ignored it, he ignore the photos that hang even if they felt familiar to him.

 We are the reckless, we are the wild youth

He hears people shouting from the outside, begging him to get out, to leave the place but he continued. Looking from room to rom, he's begging.  

Slowly, his visions blur once again. Falling down to his knees, coughing as smoke filled the room even more. Slowly he falls, hitting the floor once more.

Chasing visions of our futures One day we'll reveal the truth

Gasping as he awakens from another, he looks around. Rain falls and gray angry clouds filled the horizon. He called out someone's name as he stand up. He holds his shoulder, feeling pain in it like it has been stabbed or shot...Maybe it did? He can feel the blood and can smell it but why does it feel like it isn't his?...

He continues with his venture, walking and shouting someone's name once more. Who's name is he shouting?... He shakes his head, trying to clear away that blocking mist. 

Slowly....he can hear the name he was shouting...

And slowly...he saw who he was looking for....

That one will die before he gets there

 And if you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones

"(Y/N)!!" He shouted, running towards the body that lays on the ground, tears streaming down his face as he almost trips getting to you...

"no no no no no!" He pulled the cold body close to him, holding the wound that seems to spill blood everywhere....He feels tired too...

He called out your name, begged and cried for it, for you to wake up...Why aren't you waking up!?...

'Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone We're setting fire to our insides for fun

He held you close, sobbing and begging as the rain continues to fall down the the both of you. The forest was silent except for the rain. He look up and beg to whatever god is out there to bring you back...to take him instead of you...

"Please....."

"Not them....they all that I have left..."

We're setting fire to our insides for fun Collecting pictures from a flood that wrecked our home It was a flood that wrecked this

And He was back to that house, people arguing as he hides behind the wall. He listens in.

"This is the problem, Wallace!! You are so paranoid!!"

"If I am paranoid then explain to me will you!!"

"Explain what exactly?! Explain that my husband is a paranoid lunatic?!"

"Who was that man you were with Willow..."

Silence fills the room as Wally looks into the kitchen where his mother and father were.

"Wallace, for the last time, he was just a friend!!"

"If he was a friend then why were you making out?! Willow for god sake! WE have been married for how long now exactly?! We have a son!!"

"THAT thing is not my son!!"

"Don't even start-"

"NO WALLACE!! THAT thing upstairs is not MY son!!"

Wally simply looks as the younger version of him runs upstairs, alerting the two, and was soon followed by the man he deems as his father, calling out his name and glaring at his nasty mother that had done nothing but insult and ridiculed him growing up.

Slowly, he walks away, going through a door. Ignoring the woman who decided to leave the stove open, ignoring as how the room was slowly engulfed with fire.

Well, I've lost it all, I'm just a silhouette I'm a lifeless face that you'll soon forget

He had lost sight of many things growing up, excused people's poor behavior towards himself till you came into his life, till you gave him a push that he needed to finally acknowledge that there was something wrong based on how he grew up. Years of friendship with you did him a good thing, a better thing, more than everyone in his life had done...

So why is it so hard to see you now?.....

My eyes are damp from the words you left Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest

Tears once again fall down his face, damp by the words that leave his mind, he cried as he watches both the young version of himself and the one that lost you to a point where it felt like you died...

The ringing soon followed, as both begged for the person they love to come back, the person that accepted him as himself....

Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest

More ringing as he felt something inside of him shatter like a glass.

Cracking even more as he watches...

The fog was back, hugging and cradling him as if he was its son....this time he was alone...

And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one

"Wally?"

He turns to the voice and there you sat down with him under the tree, up upon a cliff that overlooks the neighborhood you both live in. Up upon that cliff where he fell in more than one way...

"You alright there?"

Gentle as always, you ask him. He smiles at you, a loving one " I'm alright neighbor" 

"Be honest with me Mister or I swear-" He laughs " Or what??" he tease as he nudges you, tempting you.

You simply rolled you eyes at him with a smile, leaning against him as you both look down at the neighborhood. He looks down at you, wanting and wishing to stay at this moment, a moment where it's just you and him, a moment where he still had you and you still had him.

But not everything can stay how he want it to be...

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The birds chirp from the outside, the sun was slowly rising up to greet the neighborhood. Wally rises up from his bed, rubbing his eyes as he stared outside tiredly. He lets out a heavy sigh, letting his hair fall down. 

After a few minutes of staying in bed and debating with himself, he finally stood up and left the comfort of his bed. Walking to a door to get himself ready for the day while fixing a picture that hang on the wall as he walked by it.

A picture of you and Wally up upon a cliff, underneath a tree, overlooking the neighborhood.

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I hope you all enjoyed this!!

By the way, how are the colors and fonts treating you guys?

Tagged:

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@just-random-post @mortallypleasantzombie @moondestiny2 @oceanlue @lillyisnice44 @mintycourage @thesmilingface @alishii @distinguished-procrastinator @justyuki1st @to-gay2-live @orcalover3000 @bunny-masks-blog @s0ggyrats @snappycity @thelivingdiary @soukihiko @tiredly101

The two have finally met each other lmao

Jazz on his own: Epic and majestic and competent

Prowl on his own: Serious and calculating and competent

Jazz and Prowl together: fucking gremlins

even after death he is still with him

"Awakening the Sleeping Giant" p2

people seemed to like the first post so have a little more :)

might put it on ao3 later or something

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The language barrier is a problem, Ulchtar finally decides once they touch down, and his new friend seems to agree.

He’d hit a snag in trying to describe where to go when he realized the Giant had been asleep for longer than English had existed as a language. Thankfully, gestures seemed to be more-or-less universal, so he was able to get across the idea of where to go eventually. They’re currently nestled in a cave somewhere in the Scandinavian mountains. It’s a remote place, especially after the alien attacks in the area a few years back. But he knows that this isn’t a permanent solution.

They need to learn to communicate before the inability to do so gets them both killed.

Which is why they’re now taking turns scratching out a massive diagram on the cave floor with sticks…Well, a stick and a small tree. They’d been trading words back and forth for a good two hours now. As best as he could tell, the Giant’s language was actually quite simple—consisting mainly of nouns, verbs, descriptors, and modifiers to those two things. It wasn’t particularly elegant, but it was versatile enough.

They’d started with things that were easily drawn-out or mimed: things like “person,” “me,” “you.” There was sort of a pronoun system, and the Giant…seemed to be a “he,” or an equivalent. Then they’d tried to build from there—he’d figured out some of the verbs, and how to phrase things as a question, and from there the two of them had hit it off. Now he was trying to get the guy up to speed, because everything would be a whole lot easier if they knew what was going on.

“So…[me-category-] human.” He points to the crude little figure of a human he’s drawn, and the Giant nods along.

How to explain the war…? “Humans [-planet-creation-positive-] Earth.” He points to the rough map of the world they’ve drawn out, then to the Giant’s rather detailed drawing of a kaiju. “[Planet-creation-negative-] Earth.”

They lean down a little closer to the drawing. “Quintesson,” he says with what sounds like outright distaste. Ulchtar’s a little taken aback by that.

“[Question.] Quintesson [-them. Name?]”

“[Name-positive.] Quintessons [negative-negative-negative.]” They confirm. Okay, triple negatives, so this guy hated the damned things just as much as anyone else. Maybe it wasn’t just Earth under siege…?

“Quintessons [motion-inside] Earth…[creation-negative] humans.” He’s painfully aware of his limited vocabulary, hoping it’s enough to get the point across. The Giant seems to pick up on the intent, tensing up just a little.

He continues. “Humans…[Eyes-positive-you. Humans-creation-negative, desire-negative.] So... [negative-brain-do-positive-you. Creations-do-similar.]” We found you. We didn’t want to die. We studied you. Tried to make things like you.

The Giant whirls towards him at that, picking him up to hold him at eye level. The grip is just tight enough to hurt, just enough to feel like a threat. “[You…complete-negative-me?]”

Ulchtar waves his hands in front of his face frantically, mortified. Oh, he’s really fucked up this time. He didn’t realize the Giant remembered getting taken apart like that. “[M-me-do-negative! Complete-positive-repeat!]” He sputtered. I put you back together!

It wasn’t technically a lie. He hadn’t exactly done it out of the kindness of his heart, but it wasn’t a lie.

The glare softens just a bit, the grip relaxing. He's not in immediate risk of death anymore.

They keep talking for a few hours, until it gets too dark to really see what he's doing anymore.

He hmms, trying to think of the right words…

“Uh…” He points up at the sliver of sky above them. “[Sky. Light-negative. Me-vision-negative.]”

“[…Recharge-you? Eyes-positive-me.]” He was offering to keep watch while Ulchtar slept, he mentally translated.

He nodded, fumbling mentally to figure out how to respond to that. “[…Gratitude-positive.]”

Then, another thought occurred to him. “[You. Name. Question?]”

The Giant paused for a second at that, wings drooping just a little bit. “[…name-knowledge-negative. Memory-negative-negative.]”

…oh.

Ulchtar can’t help but feel a little bad for asking now. He tries to shift the topic a bit, pointing to himself. “[Me. Name.] Ulchtar.”

That gets a tilt of the head. “[You. Name. Sound-similar…Star-sound-positive-positive-pitch-positive?]” In this language, the name and the phrase do sound kind of alike, actually. He laughs at that.  

“Star…scream? [Desire-name. Name-sound-positive-positive-positive.]” He adds three positives for emphasis, because it does sound way more badass than “Ulchtar.”

The ground shakes just slightly, and he realizes the Giant is laughing.

Don't get too attached, he reminds himself. They could betray you any second. He's just as dangerous as these Quintessons if he wants to be.

“Oh, knock it off…” He curls up on a relatively comfy-looking patch of cave moss, bundling himself up in some extra clothes in lieu of anything warmer. The cave’s warmer than outside, but still a bit chilly even with the ambient heat from the Giant’s engines heating it up.

It doesn’t stop him from eventually slipping into sleep.

-----------------------

The mech with no name shifts his weight just a little, trying to get comfortable in his hiding spot among the mountains. It’s not much—just a little nook in the rocks where it’s tough to spot him—but it’s better than being out in the open, as badly as he wants to stretch out his wings and fly again.

He doesn’t want to put the human—Starscream—Ulchtar—in danger.

Ulchtar’s the only companion he has in this world right now, after all.

So he’s probably going to stick with him for a bit—in no small part because he really doesn’t know where else he’d go. Most of his memory is long since corrupted, throwing him all kinds of errors whenever he tries to think back to before.

He knows, in broad strokes, what he is. He knows he’s a mechanical lifeform. He knows he’s a shapeshifter of some sort. He knows he can fly, and is probably designed to explore space. He knows what the parts inside of him are—what a spark is and that he needs to drink energon to survive. He knows the Quintessons want him dead.

But he doesn’t know who he is. His name. Where he came from. What his own species is called…

Does he have a species?

This whole world was filled with organic life, and nothing else—it was clear that the other machines he’d seen in that laboratory weren’t alive, but rather artificial constructs. They resembled him, but only superficially. He can’t feel their sparks, let alone any sort of EM field—something even the organics of this world have, albeit very faint ones.

Which leaves him with a very frightening question.

Am I alone?

His internal clock is telling him he’s been on this planet for six million years, trapped in stasis.

Surely someone must’ve looked for him, right? One of his kind, maybe? Surely six million years would’ve been long enough for a search party to find him.

If nobody had ever come looking for him, then…then either there was nobody left to send, or he’d mattered so little that nobody had ever bothered to remember him.

He wasn’t sure which hurt more: being alone, or being nobody.

Something wet drips onto his face.

Terrible time for rain, he thinks to himself.

But when he looks up, there’s not a cloud in the sky.

How odd…

He brushes it away, trying not to think about the question hanging over his head.

The night after that is largely uneventful, up until he notices a strange blue-green light on the horizon.

He pokes his head through the entrance. Was dawn supposed to come this early? Was it usually that color?

-----------------------

When he’s exhausted, Ulchtar is a pretty heavy sleeper.

That said, the fact that the Giant doesn’t wake him up when he moves away is still damned impressive. No, he only wakes up when it starts getting cold again. Still groggy, it takes him a few seconds to realize his vanished from his spot—something that makes him snap awake instantly in a panic.

He looked up towards the surface. Had he been abandoned? Was the Giant going back to—

Oh.

He sees his companion’s winged silhouette just beyond the mouth of the cave, illuminated in blue and green and violet.

He’s staring at something.

Ulchtar creeps closer, and quickly understands why. There’s an aurora snaking across the sky in full force above the mountains, and the Giant watches in wonder.

His wings twitch when Ulchtar draws near, as if sensing him somehow. “Starscream [recharge-positive?]” He asks. It seems like the nickname is sticking.

“[Recharge-positive],” he agrees. It’s another half-truth; he was sleeping fine until he got cold.

The Giant points up at the aurora, looking very confused. “[Occurrence. Name. Question?]”

“Aurora borealis.”

“[Common-positive? Threat-positive? Question?]”

“[Common-negative. Threat-negative.]” Ulchtar assures him.

He seems to relax a bit at that. “[Eye-similar…sky-heat-positive-light-positive.]”

“Yeah, kinda…” He really does not have the vocabulary to explain how the hell an aurora works. "The sky set itself on fire" is as good an explanation as any.

They nod along. “[Vision…positive-positive-positive.]”

That’s a lot of words to say “it’s pretty,” Ulchtar thinks to himself with a little smile, but jolts when his friend’s wings suddenly flatten against his back, an expression of…something like recognition on his face.

“[Name. Me. Memory-negative-now-positive. Sky-heat-positive-light-positive!]” He puts his hands together and looks to Ulchtar almost expectantly, as if he wants him to try translating this name too.

"...Skyfire," he decides after a few seconds.

The look "Skyfire" gives him at that...He's trying his best not to get attached, to do his best impression of a chessmaster moving his pawns around, but by God, if push came to shove he would kill for that smile.

My brain shut me out of the world, so doodles