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Finally, a chance off of this planet. That it was with the mech Razorwreck had spent the entire ware fighting for without ever meeting in person was… Well. He didn't need to think about that at this moment.

"Any deception I commit is not aimed at you," he replied smoothly with an inclination of his helm. "There may be some needed in procuring the ship, however."

It wasn't like Razorwreck owned a ship himself.

"Tell me, what are you willing to do to get off planet?"

Megatron looked at Razorwreck intently as he dematerialized his blaster. He hardly knew the scout except from his reports, but that was it. Their offer, however, was worth the added baggage. Whatever the reasoning the scout had, the former tyrant needed a ship. With a sigh, Megatron gave a nod before he spoke. "You can come with me and whatever you decide to do is your business, but if this is a deception, You will not come out unscathed. Understood?"

[radio-bubble]

// am back, expect posts tomorrow-ish.

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Anton Chekhov, “The Seagull”

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The question about Razorwreck being calm got a scoffing sound in return.

"Because I know when something is hewing too closely to fiction to be real, and this isn't the first time I've seen a base done up like a horror set." he retorted with an outward flick of the ends of his wings. He didn't bother to mention that that other base had been much livelier and full of 'Cons. It wasn't relevant, right?

"If you die here, your Conjunx would hunt me down and feed me to the Quintlets," he muttered darkly, turning his helm enough to give Wrangle a side-eyed look with both optics. "And if it is a Quintesson couldn't you talk them down? You have those little-" don't say monsters, horrors, or terrors. Something neutral, perfect. "-ones of your own. Have you not learned their natural language at all?"

Grante,d just because one could talk to something and get an answer back, didn't make the thing less scary. See: Megatron (or so Razorwreck assumed), Shockwave, Optimus Prime, many of the more unhinged Decepticons, the Wreckers, any of the well-known Autobots with large body counts.

He turned his helm forward, turned at the next intersection and then came to a stop. From here he could see that halfway down the corridor the way was blocked.

Someone had closed an emergency door. The big, thick metal kind used to block or slow anything from fire, the vacuum of space, or enemy weapons. There were scratches and scrapes there: long parallel ones in sets of five or four or three. A few had streaks of dried energon running alongside.

"..Hm. That is unfortunate."

15

(from the space starter thing :3)

There wasn't much use for someone bad at combat at the front lines. He's always been good at finding things and acting on his own so he's sent out into space again. To gather up what scattered Decepticons could be found, to find out why some hadn't responded at all.

Like this silent, seemingly pristine base.

His bouncing steps slowed to a stop as he approached it and his wings fanned out behind him as he scanned all the channels he had access to. He was looking for anything: unintelligible noise on an encrypted frequency he didn't have command codes for, a stray bit of chatter, even a ping from an automated system.

Nothing.

The dust of the moon drifted up around him when he came, glittering in the light from the distant sun as the fine particles turn his high-frequency radar scan into confusing slop. He grimaced and folded his wings back down and the protocols governing their extended functions cutting out when he did so.

Too wary to enjoy himself, Razorwreck used the alien moon's gravity assist his steps as he bounded his way toward the entrance.

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The scout pulls out a set of nylon and brass bristled brushes with handles and brushes of varying sizes and shapes. He lays them out gently, carefully on their own little cloth next to the thicker, body-sized padded mat next already laid out on the floor.

Next: oils and rust removers and decontaminates and other liquids or sprays, all in their little bottles. He turns his back on the mat to pluck them from their casing. There's deep, thrumming music escaping from the speak he has set up and escaping through the barely cracked door of the rental shed he's in, but he Does Not Care.

Peaceful maintenance is on the agenda for today. He's going to pry his plating off and reset all his gears and wiring.

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It had been maybe too bold of Razorwreck to make his demand offer, but that cannon wasn't turned on him so he continued to push his luck.

"You're a known factor," even if only from a distance. Even if that factor was potentially violent. "and I don't belong among them." A wave of a servo in the vague direction back to where rebuilding efforts were focused. Too much of the scout still pinged them as threats to relax. Regardless of what they said, or how easily others had found it to integrate.

And it was too noisy for him.

"We can split up once we reach Earth, and I may decide to leave before then, but I want to go." Needed to, really.

Megatron stood their, steam rising from the barrel of his blaster as he stared at the rubble. He felt shame. Shame that he had spent so many long cycles attempting to rule Cybertron and only brought it to ruin. Shame that he had tried so hard to kill Optimus only to die himself. Shame that in his quest for domination and power he had become a slave to Unicron, even in death. He wasn't even entirely sure what was said until he looked over at Razorwreck with confusion. "You are willing to aid me so long as I let you come with me? For what reason would you want to travel with a former warlord and a exile?"

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Razorwreck's servo dropped away now that they were outside, his digits rubbing against each other as part of his processor noted how warm the other had felt. Weirdly warm, maybe? Well the other had been dancing.

"Perhaps I should have waited three kliks then," he mused with a sly smirk. He suspected it would have been an impressive punch, he didn't get the impression that hte speedster was soft by any means.

It would have been a lovely sight to see just how hard the speedster could hit. Razorwreck suspected something would've dented, and he didn't think it'd be the Autobot's fist in that scenario.

"Its a shame your night was interrupted so early," he said as he turned to properly face Rodimus. "It seemed like you were enjoying yourself, more than usual."

The scout wasn't going to bother pretending he hadn't been watching Rodimus. Surely at least half the bots in the bar had had their optics on the Prime at some point.

"Will you be done for the evening, then?"

He had just been in a good dancing groove, too, when it was interrupted by someone who wanted to flirt with him. Unfortunately, it wasn't someone he was keen on being flirted with by. Rodimus just wanted to get back to dancing and enjoying himself.

For whatever reason, the afthole just wouldn't take the not-so-subtle hint that his flirting wasn't welcome, but before the Prime could deck the mech, there was a third party swooping in for the rescue.

The instinctual intimidation tactic didn't escape the speedster's notice, but he didn't get to think about it or the implication of the other's tone before his arm was being tugged at.

He didn't hesitate to follow along, letting Razorwreck pull him away from the unwelcome company.

There were very few bots that the Prime would allow to lead him around like this, usually being the one taking point, but this was a situation where he wouldn't complain about it if it meant getting away from that skeezeball.

Once they were far away enough, having left the bar, Rodimus let out a heavy ex-vent as he glanced back at the entrance to make sure they weren't followed out. "Thanks for that. I was two kliks away from punching him."

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A top secret mission seemed far more interesting than the sad stack of datapads awaiting Razorwreck back in his room. And being a handed a secret like that kind of knowledge? It sent a little thrill through his circuits even if there were no details, and nothing he could do with the information.

"Well, it's a good thing you made it back safely." his helm inclined in a small nod and then he was being poked?

Maybe he should reconsider his strategy of keeping his mask retracted. Maybe he should just never take it off again.

"I'm not sure your comparison for your schedule makes sense. Don't most go to ice skate in the winter?" he asked as he reached up and brushed the other's servo away. There was a fairly pinched look around the scout's optics. Razorwreck was going to just skate right by the comment his supposed attractiveness. Clearly Thundercracker didn't know what he was talking about.

"I think you probably draw far more mechs," And he needed to change the subject, needed a distraction. "It's about time for me to refuel, would you be willing to accompany me?"

He listened, chuckling softly, before he shrugged and looked around the halls, making sure it was clear.

"Yeah, well, between us'n the walls, I was off on a top secret mission. Super stealthy, had to be super secret-like or I'd risk bein' caught! And last I checked, I hate bein' caught like a fish in a barrel." Thundercracker looked so pleased to be reporting his stealth mission. Albeit, to the wrong mech, but he looked so pleased with himself, and he couldn't help it.

He looked at the datapad tucked under Razorwreck's arm, before he hummed and tilted his helm. Curiosity killed the cat. But, it was a good thing this particular seeker's attention span was on the shorter end. He looked back up to the other mech's face, before he shook his helm. "Nope. Schedule's as empty as an ice rink in the winter." He reported, before he began to reach out and poke Razorwreck's cheek.

This really wasn't an all too common sight, and he felt very enraptured by being so close to a mech who almost never showed his face. "Ya oughta keep the mask off more. Yer face ain't too bad ta look at, and you'd definitely draw in a good few mechs if ya wanted." No. He wasn't flirting. Just being extremely observant and honest. Even if he wasn't the smartest seeker in the bunch, he was still a seeker. Observant was what they did.

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A pained expression flickered across Razorwreck's face behind his mask because Wrangle wasn't wrong, but it was a little more complicated than that.

"Radar waves bounce, and measuring the bounce back is how I process them," he explained in the simplest terms he could. Especially since Wrangle didn't seem to understand how it worked at all. "Unfortunately, not all waves return directly to me and here it's like… yelling into a quarry or cave. There's more echoes than I was expecting off these walls and I'm picking up ghosts." The light in his optics got his helm to jerk away, a scowl across his hidden mouth at the mimicry and nonsense. "If that's the case, then it should be easy enough to prove with the electricity back on. The console should have *some* sort of message."

He stopped talking when Wrangle pointed the flashlight at the wall. Scratched into the metal plating was a message both simple, and opaque. The letters were large and jagged, made hastily. It wouldn't have been a quiet process.

IT TAKES US ONE BY ONE

"…was there something in the energon?" the scout muttered, his brow scrunched in contemplation before Razorwreck turned in the direction they had been going.

"Come on, we're about halfway to electrical."

15

(from the space starter thing :3)

There wasn't much use for someone bad at combat at the front lines. He's always been good at finding things and acting on his own so he's sent out into space again. To gather up what scattered Decepticons could be found, to find out why some hadn't responded at all.

Like this silent, seemingly pristine base.

His bouncing steps slowed to a stop as he approached it and his wings fanned out behind him as he scanned all the channels he had access to. He was looking for anything: unintelligible noise on an encrypted frequency he didn't have command codes for, a stray bit of chatter, even a ping from an automated system.

Nothing.

The dust of the moon drifted up around him when he came, glittering in the light from the distant sun as the fine particles turn his high-frequency radar scan into confusing slop. He grimaced and folded his wings back down and the protocols governing their extended functions cutting out when he did so.

Too wary to enjoy himself, Razorwreck used the alien moon's gravity assist his steps as he bounded his way toward the entrance.

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Razorwreck shot a surprised glance down at Accu, his startled-confused expression obvious on his face. The little minicon was warm, and didn't even scratch his glass. He could see how Accu would make a good frame-pillow. But he wasn't going to tell *him* that. Especially not after the duo conjured such a horrid image of him colliding with a wall. No thank you! His wings twitched at just the thought, even as he answered what he perceived as a dig at his abilities.

"I mean, I could do it if I really needed to," he spoke up, his chin lifted pridefully. He took a sideways glance from his optics at the trigger-puller now walking beside him, his yellow gaze narrowed close to, but not quite, a glare. "But considering the no-doubt limited supplies you have out here, it seems better not to tempt fate. Who knows when your next delivery will be?"

If he sounded haughty well, he deserved to, he thought. He had flown through plenty of storms and nasty situations before. Maybe not a shrapnel storm as big as this one was predicted to be, but it couldn't be that much worse, right?

"I'm not sure exactly what the cargo is, but it's supposedly fragile and feels like liquid when I tilt it." Razorwreck admitted. With a little grunt he tilted the box enough to imperil the sniper rifle's seating, then tilted it back the other way. When he leveled the box again he was clearly quite pleased with himself.

"Is the mess hall far from here? I should probably get a quick cube before I head out again if this goes fast."

Servos clutched onto the edge of the box, as Accu's helm turned from one to another, barely bothered by the change in carrier. His derma pulled into a smirk at Razorwreck's words, only to be slapped away into momentary confusion by the 'suspicious' look on the delivery bot's faceplates. Why was he looking at him like that?

Accu squinted and stared at the bot for a long time, while his frame swayed slightly with each step. Not the best seat in the prison, but it suffices, and he's more than happy to scoot further in and lean back. Back plates pressed against the bot. Comfy. "Wooo, now wouldn't that be a sight to see. You, or well, any flight frame, going weeee, right into the nearest wall." Accu chuckled at the thought.

"We don't really want that to happen to you though, getting impaled, or ripped to shreds by the storm." Repose added, smiling. While internally he found the thought delightful. "I should have thought better and not overestimated your abilities, or, well the storm, both." Repose added in passing and slowed down his speed enough to walk besides Razorwreck.

"A bot with wings knows best when it comes to the wind currents, and storms." A minor compliment from Repose as he glanced over to the smaller bots. "A storm makes us useless too, can't shoot when you can't see anything." That gained a tiny grumbling mumble from Accu, saying something about 'a storm can't stop me'.

Repose glanced downwards, and then to the nearing corner. Ah, the medical ward is getting dangerously close. But, it's fine, maybe there's utter chaos in there again, to distract their new friend from leaving right away.

"So... What's in the box? I mean, basic medical stuff or some mega special repair tools? Boosters? Sedatives? " Accu broke the silence and lightly patted the container.

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His optics quickly returned to their normal appearance as he straightened up. He probably shouldn't have mentioned anything about the circumstances being difficult, and he mentally cursed himself for doing so. Now he had to lie, and lies were easy to lose track of and be strangled by.

"Ah, there are pirates in the area," he lied with a wave of one servo. "Those you were with were worried you would be more at risk aboard such a small vessel, thus the need for a transfer."

No reason to tell her that the Decepticons had been the threat, nor that 'Director Silvergleam' had been worried about them.

"I apologize about my earlier, ah, staring. You are... far more flexible than I realized a Cybertronian could be." he said smoothly. Although, was she really a Cybertronian? Was she being literal about the space egg?

"Yes, hatching," Mourningstar nodded to confirm what she said. "I don't know what happened, or how it happened, but I hatched from a metal egg that fell from the stars. I had landed just outside of Iacon, so I was taken in by the science division," She recounted, glancing up towards the ceiling momentarily.

Pausing, the sound of the fray going on outside could be heard a bit more clearly. Though she wasn't panicked, the femme tilted her helm in confusion before looking back to Razorwreck.

"Frantic...? Is everyone alright?” She asked, concerned just as much as she was puzzled. “Director Silvergleam told me that we had to leave Cybertron, but didn't tell me why… Perhaps this is what he meant,” Mourningstar reckoned, trying to wrack her processor for answers or anything she could recall.

When nothing came up, the femme let out a small sigh in resignation. Her twin-tendrils wilting while her helm slumped on her drooping neck cables.

"Oh well..." She murmured before finally turning her attention back to Razorwreck. "... What?"

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// closed starter for @dragvnsovl

There isn't a single claim Razorwreck can say he has on Rodimus. Not one logical reason his fuel tank should churn the way it does like his drink is curdling as soon as he drinks it. It is frankly unheard of for him to get emotional like this, but he doesn't have time to decipher his thoughts on it. Doesn't want to decipher his thoughts on it.

And it doesn't look like Rodimus is enjoying the attention he's currently getting either.

The scout rises from his stool and stalks through the bar's crowd with an ugly enough look on his face that the more observant and reasonable simply step aside. He keeps his wings plastered to his back all the same as he sidles up to the two bots at the side of the dance floor.

"Excuse me, but I have important matters to discuss with the Prime," his tone is dry but there's an edge to it, and when he smiles he purposely widens his lips a little too far. The scout rolls a shoulder to draw attention to the Decepticon sigil there, forgetting that he has it covered, as he slips a servo around Rodimus' arm and gives it a little tug. "Time sensitive information."

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🍆 //Offers you Repose or Darkfang if you wants :3c

// Repose won the coinflip, but having to choose was *awful*.

Razorwreck's hips come to a stop as he turns his helm to look over his shoulder, his optic ridges furrowed in mild surprise as he stares at the door where Accu had opened it, made a comment, and then promptly closed again. He looks back to Repose like he's expecting an answer.

"Isn't this his room too?" the delivery bot was still use to privacy being in short supply on the front, to averting his optics (or not) when the looming threat of death, or need, or simply looking for comfort got too strong to ignore and there simply wasn't anywhere else to go.

Whatever. He shrugs then refocuses on what they were doing.

He raises himself up until Repose is in danger of slipping out, then quickly sinks back down again. A low groan tumbles out of his mouth as his back arches, his optics flickering as his ventilation quicken into a quick, shallow inhale-exhale pattern. He squirms, shifting his hips side to side to drag Repose's spike over his nodes to let the charge build and then crackle through him.

"Frag, that feels so good," he groans as his optics flicker, then go unfocused. His feet and legs flex as he lifts himself a little to sink back down again. He's quieter now as he chases his pleasure, this offered relief for his boredom.

It's not nearly as thrilling as out flying a storm, but he'll take it.

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🍆 //With Rodimus, hypothetically and for funsies

// smut below cut. :V

It was the Autobot's flexibility that first caught Razorwreck's optics. How could it not when paired with such a flashy paint job, such eye-catching moves?

He nuzzles along the side of a foot now, presses his lips briefly against the side of each warm exhaust pipes. He works his way up slowly, more slowly than he suspects the other would like but Razorwreck wants to savor this, savor him. It's been a while for the scout and it'll be a while again. He wants memories to keep.

But then again, if he gives *Rodimus* what he wants maybe he can get what he wants. He'll test the speedster's endurance.

"So beautiful, I want to bend you all sorts of ways," he murmurs as he reaches up to lightly touch along the edge of the exposed valve, his optics drawn to the node peeking out. He leans forward to nuzzle it, mask sliding away with a quiet snick as his hands shift to hold the other's thighs up and apart. His focus is entirely on the supposed Prime's reactions as he lowers his head, turns it abruptly to the side to give a mean little nip to one of the speedster's thighs and snickers.

"Shh, shh. You knew what you were doing inviting a stranger into your berth, didn't you?" he mutters as he rubs his nose against the node. His optics flick up to watch the other's face, his chin tilts up so he can lathe his tongue over the other's node, a wicked smirk on his face. His servos on the other's thighs tighten, claws digging in enough to scratch the paint.

He settles in to feast.

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SEND ME  “  🍆 “  AND I WILL WRITE A NSFW / SMUTTY DRABBLE BETWEEN OUR CHARACTERS.

18+ muns and muses please!

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Servos pressed along the berth, as he pushed his chinplate against the edge of it. Golden optics stared silently at Razorwreck, observing his state of awareness, before making his move. He crawled on the berth one pede at a time with small flickers of his glossa directed at the con.

Closer and closer, he moved, until he pressed his helm snug against Razorwreck's chassis. He gently pushed against it in a rubbing manner and tugged his knees upwards. One of his pedes claws latched onto the side of the bots shin plating to keep him there. The rest of the Snake's frame snuggled in closer, servos wrapping around the mech with a soft rumbling purr.

All wrapped around Razorwreck, tail included, Darkfang pressed close with his helm nuzzling under his chin. //Feral Darkfang.

He an optic flickered then squinted at the color scheme around him. He sighed quietly at the purr, the sound content rather than exasperated for once. His wings flicked out to avoid getting pinned or touched, but otherwise he declined to move.

"Don' touch the wings, and you can stay. I don't care what else you do," he muttered sleepily. Razorwreck's own servos awkwardly folded up over the limbs wrapped around his frame. A servo lazily stroked along the plating as he offlined his optic again and settled in.

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// If i'm not responding to you/haven't contacted you in a bit I apologize. Feel free to prod me on this post or just send an ask as a reminder if it's been longer than three days for a post, or two days for a dm reply. If a mutual, feel free to send me a DM asking for my discord! Or an ask and I'll shoot you a DM. :) Tumblr has decided that I : a) don't need to see any alerts in my activities b) need to try twice to like a post c) don't need to get message alerts d) get about a 50% shot of my messages going thorugh e) get a 25% chance of replies to posts working f) need to try twice to repost g) don't need autosaving :')