#sparkflower-fields

[cybertr0nian]

For anyone part of the DJD crew:

Nickel is absolutely booking it on her pede wheels to the Peaceful Tyranny's conference suit, and she is fuming. She has a tendency to check on the stations around the ship that are specifically in place for personal grooming and physical health maintenance, mostly to ensure there are fresh supplies provided for everyone, and not one buff pad, dentae scrubber or solvent shower was even slightly used from when she last checked and replaced them. And that was cycles ago! She has more important things to do than monitor her crew's personal hygiene, but APPARENTLY, that job would fall under her jurisdiction today!

As soon as she reaches the door to the conference room, she angrily punches in her medic access codes, which override any lock put on the door. She knows that those codes are for emergencies only, but she doesn't care. The last thing she is going to do, is take lip from a mech with unwashed, unpolished plating and gunked up dentae!

Tarn lifts his helm from the datapad he'd been reading off of and slowly turned his helm towards the doors he could hear someone on the other side and he knew exactly who it was...considering everyone else was in here with him. Nickel. Clearly something had upset her to come all this way but he wondered what it could be now....well it seemed like he'd find out soon as the door was opened and in came the medic.

Helex was the first to move to the far side of the room, the last thing they wanted was for Nickel to grab him and berate him about his oral hygiene again...and she certainly seemed upset, at who none of them knew...yet.

" Nickel...." you seem upset...is what he wanted to say but clearly that was obvious " What brings you here? If it's for a check-up of some sort it will have to wait until after the meeting."

[paladinofthepits]

[ starter for @sparkflower-fields -> Kitbasher ]

A ragged ex-vent left him as he attempted - once again - to take a step. It quickly became an impatient snarl as his leg threatened to give out beneath his great weight.

Had the injury been in a more accessible spot, Megatron was proficient enough at mending his wounds temporarily in combat scenarios. But alas, the blast had caught him on the back, outermost section of his knee joint, severing the hydraulic fuel line. The limb was stiff, useless. He'd been fortunate enough to make it this far, but if he did not succeed in exiting the cavern, he had no hope of calling for a bridge. The alien mineral deposits within the rock here were interrupting the frequencies of their communications system, a detail discovered too late.

Hurried pedesteps echoed down the tunnel shaft, growing closer. The injured warlord braced on the wall he was propped against, pushing himself into a more upright position. Cycling on his cannon, he aimed it toward the opening the bot would pass by, unknowing if they were friend or foe. Were it the latter, he would not be perishing on this day.

An unfamiliar frame breached the gap, the stranger screeching to a stop upon seeing him.

"Do not move," he warned lowly.

[polyhexianchicken]

It was after hours, Swerve's bar had closed down for the evening. But he still had the itch to do something. Not really sure what he wanted to do, standing in the darkened bar, he eyed a batch of energon he had whipped up that still had a few mugs worth.

Now... the real question was, who to share it with?

Cyclonus and Tailgate usually were asleep by now, so it couldn't be them.

Chromedome and Rewind were probably doing... Primus knows what. And the last time Swerve got involved he walked with a limp for a whole week.

So, his processor landed on Whirl. Whirl was usually awake at this Primus-forsaken hour. So why not stop by and pay him a visit?

Swerve sub-spaced the energon before locking up the bar and strolling to Whirl's hab. When he finally arrived he reached to knock, hesitating a moment. 'Was this a good idea?' The mini thought. He shook his helm and knocked, despite his doubts. He wanted to give the ex-wrecker a chance.

At first Whirl ignores the sound, thinking it was just some of the weird noises that come from living in a giant ship. That is, until after a few kliks he replays the sound, realising that it was in fact a knock at his doors. What the frag?

He trudges silently to the door, punching in the code to open it, not hiding his reaction of his helm jerking back in surprise when he spots the minibot. Swerve? What the hell?

"...Whatever it is, it wasn't me. I haven't stolen any of your inventory this week, so you can frag off to Magnus with that search request." Whirl chuffs rudely with a heavily suspiscious glint. Surely he's not here willingly now? Pff, nah. That couldn't be it, he wouldn't come over to just to hang out with Whirl, of all mechs. Well, not unless he was desperate.

[spark-took-flight]

[M!A] There are individuals within your circle of contacts who are in need of a kiss, my dear. Seek out a few of the ones you are most comfortable with and give them that much needed affection.

Skyfire shyly approaches Starscream, offering a sheepish wave.

“Hello, Star! I come bearing a gesture of affection.”

The shuttle leans down and softly kisses the top of Starscream’s helm, before patting the spot he kissed gently.

Distracted, Starscream didn't even hesitate. He even leaned in, expecting a simple shoulder pat or other, normal means of affection.

Then he felt the gentle press of a kiss to the top of his helm, and he looked up in surprise as he is then pat.

A gesture of affection. Indeed! His cheek plates burned as he moved to run the spot where he'd been kissed. "Unexpected, Sky. I request another." Demanding, as always.

[spicymotte]

a field of sorrow

[guttr-bot]

'I-I'm not... frag you.'

Yes... that was precisely the issue. And the Wrecker intended to remedy that.

"Not yet, yer' not. We can fix that, though."

There was no masking it anymore, all notions of keeping their back-and-forth in the realm of harmless flirting having dissipated entirely. His 'good intentions', such as they were, had climbed to the tippy-top of 'point of no return' mountain and had taken a flying leap right off.

And Wheeljack couldn't have cared less. He had half a mind to push the good doctor over that console and...

He was getting ahead of himself. The setting was less than ideal. While voyeurism wasn't something he was opposed to, he didn't imagine Ratchet would appreciate the risk. Especially with humans around. He could practically hear his chiding 'Ep ep ep.'

Though he supposed he could quiet any protests in a number of ways. Ratchet's mouth was lookin' especially tempting right about now.

"Listen, Sunshine, you know where to find me. Once yer done with that real important work you seem so engrossed in, why don't you do us both a favor and pay me a visit? The Jackhammer's not as roomy as yer setup here... but it's got privacy."

Ratchet’s spark leapt into his intake as Wheeljack found it necessary to lean onto his workspace and make eye contact. To which the medic swiftly turned his helm away, covering his intake with a servo. He was undoubtedly flustered and the feeling was only increasing the longer Wheeljack felt the need to flirt.

Despite looking away, he was acutely aware of how close the other’s frame was to his and it sent heat rolling over his plating in a wave. The full body embarrassment was no longer easy to hide, his flushed face plate only getting more blue.

Ratchet had half a processor to chase Wheeljack off, snap at him and threaten to beat him with the wrench on his station. But… he didn’t. He was tired and stressed out with work, and he simply didn’t have the energy to fight him off. He felt guilty to indulge in such frivolous behavior regardless, to be standing there blushing like a young academy student while Wheeljack flirted at him, but he liked it, no matter how much he wanted to deny it.

He chanced to look back at Wheeljack, his optics wandering back over to the other’s faceplate before locking into his gaze. There was an incredibly uncommon expression on the doc’s face. Something bordering on desperate and yearning. His servo fell from his own intake, his derma pressed together as his nerves began to overwhelm him.

“I-I’m not… Frag you.” He said half-heartedly, the statement holding little power in its delivery. Ratchet’s frame was heating further and further the longer they stood there, and eventually he was getting warnings on his hud behind his optics and he had to continuously dismiss them. Steam had begun to wisp between his plating seams, which finally caused his fans to kick on high, attempting to cool him down.

[silenceofthewave]

cont. with @sparkflower-fields

Soundwave grunted when Megatron pushed him into the conference room. His field reflected his surprise and quickly turned into smoldering playfulness. He tilted his head a little denoting the hidden smirk on his face.

He yelped a little as Megatron pinned his wrist to the wall. Soundwave took in a steadying vent and turned his servo towards his Conjunx Endurae. In his hand was a small black datapad- that seemed to be displaying a calendar.

"Request: Verify your schedule for the upcoming orbital cycle." Soundwave answered, "Purpose: Scheduling a Newspark Viability Assessment."

Whatever playfulness was left in Soundwave's field was instantly replaced by a quiet tension. He... He didn't know how to feel about this- which is definitely on his "Top 10 Worst Feelings" list.

[cybertr0nian]

✨️ >>> For Breakdown

Knockout approaches with a servo full of auto-grade mica glitter for paint jobs and takes a deep in-vent before blasting the glittery dust all over Breakdown, who was napping peacefully.

When the glittery dust settled, Knockout was wearing bunny ears and a little cotton ball tail.

"Happy human holiday of resurrection Sweetspark~ Don't you look gorgeous?"

Send ✨️ to throw glitter at my muse!

Ah, recharge it was nice while it lasted....sadly it wasn't a long one when something hit him with a loud BANG and of course Breakdown being Breakdown, immediately assumed that it was an attack and swiftly sat up on the berth with his servo quickly shifting to his hammer only to stop when he noticed Knockout standing there.

He needed a moment to process what was happening, optic looking the smaller mech over noticing their outfit....

Human....resurrection holiday?

Only Knockout would bother with human culture and of course drag him into it, which was of course his own fault considering he didn't put his pede down " What I-" he stops noticing the glitter on his arm and slowly looked down at himself " What the..." was that the sound he'd heard?

" Primus Knockout you startled me, I thought we were under attack." he admitted as he slowly stood and...well attempted to remove the glitter " Ugh this scraps sticking...what's with the outfit?" he asks raising his helm to look at Knockout " I mean it's cute...I just wasn't expecting...this."

[notsafeforwave]

cont. with @sparkflower-fields

Soundwave let his helm fall back as all the background charge suddenly lit up his sensory net. The lights on his array pulsed as he granted himself a small noise of pleasure and twist of his pelvis. He felt the crackle of static between his joints spread across his hips and up his torso; letting out a soft moan, punctuated by the curl of Megatron's digit.

Slowly, he picked his helm up. Soundwave stared at his Conjux with half lidded optics and a grin that was only interrupted when he bit his lip. Soundwave's vents huffed again as he noted the look in Megatron's optics; a look he was intimately familiar with.

Soundwave truly had him wrapped around his little finger.

The servo that had once been on Megatron's wrist began to slowly stroke his spike. He timed his movements to the pace his mate set; digits squeezing the tip when he pushed in, and a stroke to the base when he pulled out. Soundwave watched as the look on his face evolved; his own derma parted, optics cycled tight.

He wanted to see how far he could push Megatron. How long could he last under these conditions- what would make him break? What could Soundwave do to push him to the edge, but never over?

These questions plagued him as Megatron put in a second digit. He couldn't stop himself from whining with pleasure as the fingers pushed in knuckle deep, spreading apart to tease whatever nodes they could find. The loose grip on Megatron's spike tightened slightly, wrist twisting as he stroked upwards. Soundwave stared at his faceplate, noting the look of concentration there and the fanged dentae that poked out.

He couldn't help the delight that gripped his spark, seeing Megatron like this; at his command. How so many, for so long, had wished to have this sort of authority, yet none of them realized that to wield it they must learn to respect it. They wanted to take him for granted, but Soundwave knew better. He always had.

The feeling was only magnified by their recent reunification. The words spoken, the agreements they came to; Soundwave now knew his place, and Megatron's as well. Each other's sides.

A well placed stroke brought Soundwave out of his thoughts. He groaned quietly and gripped the base of Megatron's spike. An almost wolfish grin crossed his face as he stared into the crimson optics of his sparkmate. The once dead Cybtertronian language, now revived, gave its command.

"Released."

[spilled-energon]

@sparkflower-fields asked:

[For Tarantulas]

The cheetah-former, in his alt mode, crouches in the grass, lying low to the ground, stalking his target. He wiggles his front paws, adjusting his trajectory and…

He pounces!

“SURPRISE TARANTULAS!” He calls out as he jumps on the other, glee in his voice.

The multiverse was not something unfamiliar to Tarantulas. He has spent years researching the possibility, and had received ample proof of its existence on multiple occasions. He never actually made contact, however, with another universe. Until Cheetor, that is. The boisterous feline had visited him once before, though by accident on both of their parts. It was partially due to Tarantulas' experiments with opening a portal to another universe, and partially Cheetor's use and knowledge of the Allspark as its guardian. The first encounter had been rather enjoyable, but ultimately had to end when Cheetor needed to return to his own home.

Life went on. Tarantulas busied himself with more research into the topic. He was taking a break from the project when he was suddenly tackled.

Initially, his reaction was to fight back. Years of war and hostilities screamed at him to rip the offender from his frame, then stab a sharp spider limb through their chest. Thankfully, Cheetor's cheery voice registered before he had much of a chance to react. Tarantulas allowed himself to go limp on the ground beneath the cheetah's body, a soft laugh rattling his frame. "You would do well to give me more ample warning next time," he hummed, visor squinting in his version of a fond smile. "It's good to see you again, Cheetor."

[spark-took-flight]

Con't from here ll @sparkflower-fields

Feeling ignored while Perceptor kept working, Brainstorm decided to move on and work on his own projects. He really figured that Perceptor was not going to dignify him with a response. Okay, fair enough. it was a dumb statement. He went back to the soldering he'd been doing on a new weapon's circuits, letting himself focus there.

So, when his lab partner spoke up, it actually caused Brainstorm's helm to snap up, and he accidentally soldered one of his digits. He hissed and shook his servo, before looking up at Perceptor. After a moment, the question finally processed, and his wings flicked up, before dipping back down.

He scoffed. "Psh, no! I'm not small!" He huffed, getting up and walking back over. "I'm perfectly within my alt class's height limits." Yes, he was... Including the weapons on his back. Weapons that had only been fired a specific few times in his life. "And besides, height is just another useless classification nowadays." He brushed off Perceptor's question as if he hadn't been the one to start the conversation down this path in the first p

[notsafeforwave]

@sparkflower-fields

(267): If I wanna spend the whole night tied up and getting railed I’m allowed to do so

[silenceofthewave]

@sparkflower-fields said, " "Uh... Boss whats with the uh... army of bits?" Rumble is standing in the doorway looking more lost than he normally does. "

.: Bitlets: Appeared. :.

That was the only explanation Rumble was going to get for now. Soundwave turned its helm to look over its shoulder. It gave Rumble a severe look through the visor; as if this was somehow his fault.

Soundwave knew it wasn't, but that didn't stop the momentary show of irritation. Still, after a moment, its shoulders sagged, and it paused what it was working on. It turned to face Rumble.

.: Soundwave: Requesting Rumble's assistance regarding construction of habsuite. :.

[spilled-energon]

Soundwave had no interest in going near Breakdown, nor in interrupting whatever actions Knockout partook in to ease his grief. He kept his distance, not bothering to move from his knelt position a few feet away. He tilted his helm when he was addressed, shifting his arm to better show off the leaking injury on its underside.

When Knockout stood, so did he. He chanced a glance at the door, silently weighing his options. He could leave. Being in the medbay- any medbay- never failed to make his plating crawl. His inherent distrust of medics made the exit seem so much more appealing. But, Knockout was soon approaching him, so he held his ground.

Having someone grab at his plating without permission would always be somewhat shocking. Few had the courage to approach him, and even fewer were confident enough to actually touch him. Though, Knockout's role as CMO likely involved a lot of that. Soundwave tried not to jerk his arm away, forcing the limb to go still beneath the medic's oddly gentle touch. Aside from the occasional twitch of his digits, he was the ideal patient. Unmoving, patient, and quiet. The cleaning, then subsequent welding process, were met with nothing more than a blank stare from his expressionless visor.

Once the process was complete, Soundwave allowed his slender arm to drop back down to his side. He stayed locked in place for a moment, simply watching as Knockout turned away from him. Then, he stepped forward. "How are you today, dear doctor?" Starscream's recorded voice filtered through his speakers. It was a redundant question, considering the horrid state Knockout was clearly in, but it was an attempt, at least.

❤️‍🩹 - For my TFP Soundwave from Knockout?

❤️‍🩹 for an angst starter

Soundwave and Knockout

Knockout had never been one to be sentimental. At least, not openly. He would show affections and favor someone over the other with clear preferences. But sentiment was reserved for those who could afford it, and in war time very few found themselves wealthy.

Knockout had never been one to be sentimental.

But standing now, at the berth side of his lost love, the lifeless frame of Breakdown, he found the last few dregs of sentiment in his spark and they spilled from his optics, streaking down his faceplate.

Breakdown had always been there for him, in his times of need, both in battle and in the small hours of the cycle when stasis evaded him. He had always felt safe with Breakdown. Even now as he placed a shaky servo over the fizzled spark of his Conjunx, he felt safe. As if the other would spring to life if the mere mention of danger arose.

Knockout knew that wouldn’t be the case. After all his love’s frame had been through, the desecration by a filthy organic no less. He knew there would be no Primus given miracles. Not for mechs like them anyway.

The doctor slid to his knees next to the medical berth, his servo refusing to lift from Breakdown’s icy frame as he lowered himself to the floor. He gripped Breakdown’s stiff servo and simply sobbed with his helm slumped forward. He pulled Breakdown’s cold, lifeless hand over to cup his tear stained cheek plating, wordlessly begging for Breakdown to wake up and hold him, to comfort him how he used to.

No matter how he cried or grieved, Primus didn’t play favorites with the likes of them. He would not see his love rise the way the leader of the Autobots so often did. And that thought planted a bitter seed in his own spark.

Just as he thought things couldn’t get worse, he heard the doors to the medical bay hiss open. Without much thought, or care really, of who was at the door, he grabbed the nearest object which was a tray of autopsy tools he had used to inspect his Conjunx’s frame for research. With all his strength he threw it at whoever had entered, the tools smashing against the wall next to them. Rage and anguish filled his intake and he screamed, not saying anything, but roaring in agony, in anger. Because how dare someone interrupt his mourning?

He screamed so hard his vox glitched and he nearly broke it. Then he fell silent once more, resting his helm against the side of the berth as another pitiful sob shook his frame. He was resigned to whatever reprimand he would receive for acting so unbecoming of the Decepticon CMO title. He couldn’t care, not when his Conjunx’s lifeless frame rusted next to him.

Even if it was the chief of security who had entered the medical bay.

[cybertr0nian]

“Dear Primus…

This is Cheetor!

I miss you. But I don’t know how I can miss you when I’ve never met or seen you. Maybe I feel you through the power of the All-Spark. But I haven’t been in contact with the All-Spark in many cycles.

It is safe, I assure you.

But I have not visited in a while. Visited you in a while?

Also, I met a creature named Unicron, they did not like my presence I think! But it was still an enlightening experience.

I have also made many friends! You know one of them I think! Optimus Prime!

But that is all I have to tell you about, I enjoy talking to you!”

Cheetor is meditating in his hab suit, praying to Primus. He prays to him almost like a child would write a letter to Santa. Or telling their parent how their day was as summer camp.

As always Primus listened to anyone and everyone who wished to speak to them, they knew of all their creations but it was rare...especially now, to hear any of them speak to them. Perhaps it didn't help that they could not speak back as much as they desired to. Regardless of if they could hear them or not they still listened.

Cheetor. It was nice to hear another after nothing but silence for so long. They were fully aware of who Unicron was, and what it was capable of...still Cheetor still functioned....for that they were grateful.

{:: Thou needest not behold or hearken to mine presence to discern my essence. ::}

There was the likely chance they did not hear them....but still....how could they not respond to their little spark?

{:: I stand ever at thy side, Cheetor, and 'tis a noble honor to lend mine ear unto thee. I do but yearn to converse with thee and proffer mine aid. Farewell, I shall ever keep thee under mine vigilant gaze. ::}

[notsafeforwave]

cont. with @sparkflower-fields

Soundwave grinned under his mask as he his helm was tilted. His servo moved up the arm holding his chin, digits scraping carefully along the silver plating. He pressed his chassis closer to Megatron's; his tape deck scraping softly and leaving behind blue paint transfers.

"Do I?" His claws dug in, "Always found it thrilling."

Suddenly, Soundwave's servo was on Megatron's wrist. He pulled the hand off his jaw away, and took a large step. He took another, effectively backing Megatron into a tree. The mech might be taller than him, but that only meant there was enough space for Soundwave to slot himself between his legs.

Soundwave's voice carried the lilt of a smirk, as if he knew exactly what he was doing, "Must be hard, being so easily tamed."