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the-runt-of-the-litter-blog · 11 years ago

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Nooter couldn't help it--he was a curious little thing. Keeping a careful audial out for his caretaker's call, he followed the odd biped to... a cave? It's home, probably. Doing his best to stay out of sight, the unnaturally white flobsterling found himself a perch on a nearby crystal as his quarry disappeared into the cave mouth.

How waved his antenna about in the air, tail twitching in excitement. He'd never strayed this far from his caretaker before, nor found something so new and strange. Hm... he smelled two individual beings. One smelled totally weird and unfamiliar, but the other one held the barest trace of... his caretaker? He nooted high in confusion.

A little scrape and scuttle echoed around the crystal structures as Nooter took off from his perch, tail and underbelley flaring out flat as his propulsors kicked in. He swiftly glided into the cave of the mysterious being, sticking to the walls and finding a new perch on a curve almost at the ceiling. His sharp little pedes grasped onto the crevices in the stone, and he looked around the large cave, taking it all in. It was full of odd structures and flat things that glowed, and...

"Nee!" Food! Nooter couldn't help but squeak excitedly as the scent of more fuel than he'd ever encountered at once hit his olfactory sensors, completely forgetting that there were other things in the room.

“Noot! Noot noot!”

"Chee!"

The youngling darted around crystal structures to get to the source of the nooting—his little flobster companion had found an energon deposit! Not that they were hard to find around here. The giant crystal monoliths that spotted the landscape contained energon. Not much, but if the Insecticon and Nooter ever ran out of deposits, it was definitely a last resort that they could survive on.

He gave Nooter a quick helm bump and chirp, sniffing around the area the little guy had been going on about. Elytra twitching, he tapped at the ground with his mandibles and chuffed softly, trying to find… there! He caught a whiff of fuel and zeroed in on the pocket. Nooter watched its guardian as he began tearing up the earth, little claws working fast to shove the dirt aside.

Soon enough, a hint of blue gleamed through the hole the little Insecticon had made. The duo squeaked excitedly—dinnertime! He began digging quicker to extract the chunk of fuel.

Kliks of digging passed, and he had to take a break with a heavy exvent. He’d finally managed to unearth the deposit; a solid rock of energon twice the size of his helm. Oi. He looked around at the hole—it came up to his shoulderplates. Getting the rock out was gonna be hard.

Meanwhile, Nooter had wandered off, awaiting his caretaker to call him back. Little blue optics scanning around, he let out a little chirp when he thought he saw something. The little flobster found a crystal to perch on, and his focused his sights on… what was that?

It looked kind of like his caretaker, but it was much taller, and less spiky, and it’s wings were extended with no shell. The flobster nooted curiously, antennae waving about in the hopes of catching a scent. It was also kind of close…

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the-runt-of-the-litter-blog · 11 years ago

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"Noot! Noot noot!"

"Chee!"

The youngling darted around crystal structures to get to the source of the nooting--his little flobster companion had found an energon deposit! Not that they were hard to find around here. The giant crystal monoliths that spotted the landscape contained energon. Not much, but if the Insecticon and Nooter ever ran out of deposits, it was definitely a last resort that they could survive on.

He gave Nooter a quick helm bump and chirp, sniffing around the area the little guy had been going on about. Elytra twitching, he tapped at the ground with his mandibles and chuffed softly, trying to find... there! He caught a whiff of fuel and zeroed in on the pocket. Nooter watched its guardian as he began tearing up the earth, little claws working fast to shove the dirt aside.

Soon enough, a hint of blue gleamed through the hole the little Insecticon had made. The duo squeaked excitedly--dinnertime! He began digging quicker to extract the chunk of fuel.

Kliks of digging passed, and he had to take a break with a heavy exvent. He'd finally managed to unearth the deposit; a solid rock of energon twice the size of his helm. Oi. He looked around at the hole--it came up to his shoulderplates. Getting the rock out was gonna be hard.

It looked kind of like his caretaker, but it was much taller, and less spiky, and it's wings were extended with no shell. The flobster nooted curiously, antennae waving about in the hopes of catching a scent. It was also kind of close...

#lightinthedusk

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the-runt-of-the-litter-blog · 11 years ago

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Interlude No. 3 : Companion

They were close--he knew it. He could practically taste it now.

It was the end of a long, hard day of travel, and the light was getting dusky. The youngling sighed from his perch on top of a tall, thick crystal structure, as he scanned the horizon before him. Just a few more hours' travel... he could see the tips of monolithic crystals already...

His plating flared a little when he heard some growls in the distance. Chompers, no doubt. The youngling had had an unfortunate encounter with his first one just a few hours ago--he'd seen something peculiar and went to inspect it. It had turned out to be a pool of liquid energon! Who knew such a thing existed? So he'd started drinking from it enthusiastically, so happy that he forgot his surroundings. In fact, if it weren't for his newly-acquired little pal, he might not have a helm any more. The little flobsterling had alerted him with a shrill cry to the fact that a set of jaws with sharp and jagged denta were about to come clamping down on him, and the youngling had jerked back in just enough time to merely get a scratch on his crest.

He'd darted up the nearest tall crystal, of course, and left the thing in a cloud of dust. Perched safely on top of the tall structure, the youngling watched as the cloud dispersed to reveal a creature, mostly submerged in the energon pool. It's helm was smooth and bright blue, and it snapped its long jaws and growled spitefully as it stared up at now-out-of-reach-prey. After a little bit, it submerged itself again, just the top of its helm sticking barely over the liquid, blending in perfectly. He'd shuddered. What other predators would be lurking in plain view around these parts?

But now would be a good time to find a place to hunker down for the night. Noot (as he had taken to calling the flobster nymph, since that was all it said and the youngling wasn't particularly creative,) was busy bumbling laps around the crystal, little antennae flicking about as it smelled all the delicious fuel scattered around. After a brief moment to scratch at the mites residing in his armor seams, the Insecticon gave a short chirp, and Noot immediately darted over, latching onto the young one's crest with a few shrill little squeaks. The youngling churred in approval and scritched the little club-tail's helm with a digit. It nooted in appreciation.

With the little guy securely latched on, the youngling leapt off the crystal and hit the ground running on all fours, sprinting faster than one would think possible for one so tiny. Noot held on like a champ. As he blazed a trail, he took quick notes on his surroundings. Crystal, crystal, big crystal, small hole, crystal, energon stream, small crystal, glitchmouse, watch out for that divot, crystal, crystal--hey! The youngling skid to a stop, leaving a rut behind him.

Was that... a cave? He tilted his head this way and that, checking around that dark spot where his optic strip was cracked. He chirruped in delight. Indeed it was! Quickly, he snuck up to the entrance and glanced inside, chuffing at the air, and then he let out another happy noise. It was empty! He couldn't believe it--their luck was really turning around, wasn't it?

The cave was small and dry, and that was all he asked. He loped inside and made his way to the back, sniffing around. Yup, nobody'd been there for a while.

Then he remembered the Chomper, and the streams all around. Right. There was probably a reason for that. But, he was nothing if not innovative--necessity is a mother and all that. In short order he managed to find a loose crystal that he could topple over and roll in front of the cave entrance. He backed into the hole in the hill and used his secondary limbs to roll it so it was blocking the mouth of the cave. Perfect! And just as the last rays of sunlight were disappearing, too.

He gave a happy warble and stood on his hind legs, stretching out and then promptly flopping on his back. Noot let out a surprised squeal and detached, hovering above its caretaker's faceplates and chittering curiously. The youngling let out a short laugh and reached a tiny servo out, in a fist with a single digit extended, for Noot to latch onto, and the nymph happily obliged and was soon held close to a set of scratched and dirtied chestplates, and then was soon in stasis, dreaming of the things flobsters dream about.

Eventually, the youngling got up, the stony ground proving to be uncomfortable to his elytra. He got on his knees and began to scratch at the ground with tiny, but strong, little claws, while Noot held soundly onto his chestplates, still in stasis. He made quiet little warbles as he worked, and listened to the sounds outside. The place really came alive at night, didn't it? He heard chomper growls and the pitter-pat of glitchmice, and the sounds of pebble-beetles scampering about, looking for some tiny flakes of fuel to feast upon. He grumbled and scratched at the back of a shoulderplate with a hind leg. He'd learnt to live with them, for the most part, but those rust-mites were being particularly itchy tonight.

After a short while of scratching up the turf, the youngling lay down in his new divot, padded with loose soil. He curled up and offlined his cracked optic strip.

But stasis just would not come. Oh, he tried, but between the itchy mites and the sounds outside and the little pangs of his tank running low again and his instincts telling him every other minute, 'danger'! he just couldn't. He grumbled and began petting at the little nymph on his chest, and it made little sounds in its sleep. With a little smile, he mused at how the thing had managed to almost double in size in the course of a day. Where it had once been the size of a digit, it could now fit snugly in his palm.

Resting in his little dirt bed, he began to muse about the events of the past few days.

The promise of food he'd been following so diligently hadn’t held long; the youngling had severely underestimated how aggressive the club-tails could be. Sure, he’d run into a few before, but they were just bumbling about, doing their thing, paying him no mind unless he outright attacked them… which he’d learnt was a bad idea his first go around. He still bore the dents to prove it--a few from pinching claws, but most from hard-shelled swinging tails. It's how he decided that they were 'club-tails' to begin with. But the normally passive creatures were not so in this case. He hadn’t even gotten to swipe more than a few discarded shards before he was unexpectedly set upon with viselike claws and heavy tails. He’d only managed an escape by taking a flying leap off the cliff face and slowing his descent as much as he could by flapping his under-grown wings as quickly as the pistons would allow, buffering his fall enough to not injure him too badly. He still landed hard.

And he was still hungry. So he'd waited until nightfall, with his new dents and protoform bruises, when the mass of club-tails would finally settle down, gripping onto the cliffsides in their stasis. once he was sure they were, for the most part, all asleep, he leapt up as far as he could to latch onto the cliffside; despite his runtling status, he had a jump span that would make a clangaroo jealous. He got a grip a little under a quarter from the base, and then he began to climb--up, up, carefully, in winding paths, so as to avoid the sleeping club-tails--and eventually, he scrabbled over the edge of the cliff and saw something he'd never seen before.

Orbs. Piles upon piles of little blue orbs, some half-buried, others not, all stacked up in little dug-out holes with a flobster by each one. Hypnotized by the pretty little things, Skipper quietly made his way to the nearest pile of them, careful to avoid disturbing any club-tails. He picked one up in his tiny claws, bringing it up to his visor to observe. It seemed to have a clear, thin shell encasing it, and inside was a large black spot. It was surrounded by what was almost definitely energon. He tapped the orb with his mandibles, tasting and scenting.

Yep, that was energon. He'd popped it in his mouth, and was delighted--it was thick and rich, and it had a soft metallic center. No wonder the club-tails had come here! They wanted the food balls all to themselves...

It was when he was just starting on the fourth pile that he accidentally stepped on a flobster's tail, if the loud, startled nootings were anything to go by. Acting quickly, he scooped up the rest of the pile and shoved it into a subspace compartment, dashing over waking flobsters, down the rocky slopes of the mountainous side of the cliff, until he reached the bottom, skidding to a stop.

Ha! He chirped proudly, flaring his plating and standing up tall as he could with elytra and wings spread out in a bold show. Safe and sound and full and stocked up on food, he checked off to himself. Not bad for a youngling out on his own. Stupid selfish club-tails weren't gonna outwit him!

The youngling felt proud of himself for all of three seconds before he was soundly thumped on the back of the helm, pitching forward with a startled shriek. He flipped around to be greeted with a pissed-off flobster snapping at him, and he yelped again and got to his pedes, dodging the snaps of thick claws. Now he saw that there was a small cloud of angrily screeping club-tails behind the attacking one, flying their way.

Quickly.

He ran.

Until that night, the little Insecticon never would have guessed how violent club-tails could really be, nor how adamant they would be in pursuing him. No less than three times he'd stopped when he was sure he'd left them behind, and no less than three times was he mobbed by the flobsters hot on his trail.

His salvation finally came in the form of a large crack in a canyon wall, much like the one him and little Noot were currently residing in. He darted into the tiny cave and pressed himself against the wall. Yes, the flobsters could still get to him, but now he was shielded from top and bottom and on three sides, and he had the chance to use his claws and sharp intake edges on the attacking club-tails.

The resulting fight to fend them off took what seemed like an entire cycle, but eventually the club-tails dispersed and floated back home. The youngling fell asleep then and there.

The next morning he assessed his damage. He had a cracked optic strip, which blacked out a small portion of his vision, but the actual optic sensors underneath, by some miracle, remained undamaged. One of his clawtips--no, two; index and middle, left side--had snapped off and were radiating pain he hadn't felt the night before. He'd obtained many more dents and scrapes, some scabbed over with energon crystals that a few pebble-beetles were happily lapping at. He brushed them off, irked, and they scuttled away, quickly disappearing into the small stones scattered around, indiscernable from the rocks they looked so much like. Skipper chuffed. He'd definitely have to find another place to sleep that night.

So he spent the day sniffing at the winds, scouting out the best direction to go. He decided that the eastern paths gave him the best gut feeling, and he started his new trek. That night he snacked on a few more orbs, though he noticed that they were a bit chewier now, and they'd gone from translucent to cloudy, as if the energon were congealing further... and some had even become crunchy in the center!

The next day, he traveled further, caught some glitchmice, ate them, found a drill-weasel hole, got kicked out by the angry drill-weasel, fought the drill-weasel, got what energon he could scrounge up from the drill-weasel's fuel tank, and then dug out the burrow to make it more accommodating to one of his size. He spent the night snacking on the rest of the orbs. They'd turned almost totally solid and opaque and he could almost swear he felt some of them wriggle before he crunched them up, though when he spat one out to check, it was just an opaque, shiny blue ball.

With a full tank, he gathered up some of the dry soil he'd loosened into a pile to serve as a makeshift pillow, and he went to stasis, though he did save an orb to eat the next day as a little boost.

It was quite early in the morning that he awoke, not of his own volition, but because of a strange tickling in his subspace. He grumbled and sat up, and the tickling suddenly went from slightly annoying to all-out had him rolling and kicking on the floor, squealing in panic. What the hey?! He opened all his subspace panels and something tiny and white had rocketed out with a shrill "Neeeeeeeeee!", and had landed in the pile of pillow-dirt with a soft 'thup' and a puff of dust.

The youngling huffed, confused and annoyed. What had that been? How did it get in his subspace? He growled lowly. It better not have eaten his orb.

He meandered over to the dirt pile and crouched beside it, searching for the thing in the dawnlit burrow. A movement caught his optic and he reached out, swiftly plucking it up from the dirt, and it let out a terrified squeak and wriggled about. He held it up to his faceplates and looked it over as it twitched. A tail, which he held it by; twitching legs; tiny mandibles; small, bright eyes; two too-big claws...

...

...A tiny flobster?

He chuffed heartily, confused and admittedly amused. It was a tiny freakin' flobster. How in the world had that gotten in his subspace? He set the tiny thing in the palm of his other servo, cupping them together. The nymph backed up into the little cavern the Insecticon's servos made, nooting worriedly. This wasn't how the whole hatching thing was supposed to go, according to it's instincts, and it wasn't quite sure what to do, so it opted to roll itself into as much of a ball as it could manage.

The little one thought. The practical part of his processor kept telling him to pop the little fuel-filled thing in his mouth like any rational opportunist should. Fortunately for the little nooter, what was left of his active higher functions wanted the company more than the food... and he was still full from the previous night. He slowly opened up his servos so the thing was in open air, and he cheeped softly.

It took a klick or two and a few more encouraging cheeps and churrs, but eventually the flobsterling unfurled, and looked at the giant holding it with its strange little shiny optics. Skipper cheeped again, and something in it's processor lit up. No, it wasn't exactly the classic 'noot noot' of a caretaker... but it was close, and its processor latched onto that. The nymph unrolled itself and began to skitter around the youngling's servo, making curious noises and waving its little antennae all about. The insecticon runt watched in amusement.

No, he definitely wouldn't be eating this little fellow.

And it had actually proved a blessing. As he'd later discovered, Noot was a pro at sniffing out energon deposits, and that had been a major factor in keeping the duo as mobile as they were. Now, they were close to a new home...

As his optic strip slowly dimmed, the youngling finally finding it in him to sleep, he felt a vague sense of nostalgia and an odd mix of far-off happiness and despair.

#long story post is longest one yet #dude #i didnt mean for it to get this big #fourth installation should be last and then ill be ready to start RPing with the little guy again :)#Interludes

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the-runt-of-the-litter-blog · 11 years ago

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Surprise cute person! Once you get this you must put it in at least 8 people's asks (anonymously) who deserve it if you break the chain, nothing will happen but it is nice to know someone thinks you're the bee's knees!

((This is a really late reply cuz this got buried but thankyou, this has made my day better~))

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the-runt-of-the-litter-blog · 11 years ago

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((Hey! So, first, thank you all for the starters, but unfortunately, Skipper is currently on Cybertron and mostly feral at the moment, so it'll probably be a little while before I can get to those :/

Just so you all know that I'm not ignoring you or anything! I can't wait to RP :) ))

#thegiltdoom #scientificasshole #noshadowplayheremoveon #brokendownescapist #alpha113nredshirteradicon

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the-runt-of-the-litter-blog · 11 years ago

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Reblog if your a TF roleplayer so I can follow :3

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the-runt-of-the-litter-blog · 11 years ago

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If my character was wearing a warning label, what would it say?

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the-runt-of-the-litter-blog · 11 years ago

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Interlude No. 2 : Journey

(Interlude No. 1 : Promise)

—

Miles away from the Sonic Canyons where the club-tail migration had congregated, a small, green, dirty helm peeked out of a hole in the ground. The little Insecticon scanned around with his cracked optic strip, remembering to double-check his new blind spot. Satisfied at the lack of aggressive flobsters waiting around to gang up on him, he crawled out and stood, throwing out his arms and flaring his wings and plating in a nice, languid stretch. Even his mandibles stretched out for a few seconds, and he yawned, vents expelling stale air. That old drill-weasel hole was cramped, even after all the digging he did.

With a little churr, he checked his surroundings again. He was still technically in the Sonic Canyons, but he was at its outskirts, meeting the border of an area known as the Silicon Valley to those who cared for names—though, more often than not, it was referred by the prettier name of the Crystal Valley. The winding pathways of the canyon bore traces of all sorts of silicon-based crystals as a result—stalagmites of colourful quartz jutted up from the ground, and shining mica splashed and spotted the walls of the sandstone terrain. There was even winding rust-and-green shades of the occasional jasper vein.

And of course, there were energon pockets, but, unfortunately, many were scraped dry by the native flobsters of the area. It took quite a bit of searching to find one that bore anything that would be worth the energy it would take to dig it out and consume it, and even then, the energon found in energon-silicon compound-based crystals wasn’t very supplemental, and he wound up having to purge a lot of useless minerals at the end of every other day. He was getting sick of the constant silicon taste in his mouth.

Still, fuel was fuel, and his tanks were telling him he needed more, and soon. The little Insecticon crouched on the dusty ground, setting his elbows on his upper legs and placing his chin on his servos, thinking, and occasionally scratching at an itchy rust mite.

He knew he was close to leaving the canyons behind for good—good riddance, he thought, absentmindedly touching the crack in his optic strip—given the increasingly strong scents he was picking up from the east, where the valley lay. He smelled other living beings, other creatures, and he smelled energon. There would be competition and predators, his processor told him, much more than he’d ever find in the canyons, but there would also be food… much more than he’d ever find in the canyons.

For some reason, he was almost sure that he knew exactly what it was like where he was going. A vague sense of familiarity blurred into his mind’s eye for a few seconds—towering monoliths, bubbly pools, winding caves and caverns, bipedal figures with barely-distinguishable features—but it fizzled again before he could get it to focus.

His tanks rumbled again and he growled, forgetting the deja-vu. He’d need to find something soon or he’d collapse into stasis-lock from starvation before he could make it to his promised land. With a small reluctant chitter, he reached into his subspace and produced a small object about`the size of his palm. The very last leech.

Just as he was about to tear into it, he paused, seeming to take a moment of thought. He closed his intake and debated with himself, and after some odd seconds, gave a put-upon sigh. Turning his helm over his broad shoulder plating, he let out a sharp chirp at the drill-weasel hole.

There was a moment of silence… and then a high-pitched and slightly panicked little "Noot!" echoed from the burrow before an itty-bitty flobster nymph came quickly and clumsily levitating out, inexperienced little tail stabilizing as best as it knew how. The little white thing darted over to the Insecticon as soon as it saw him, latching onto the crest with teensy legs and climbing to the tip-top, it’s preferred hangout. It nooted softly but rapidly, instinctively tapping at the youngling’s plating with tiny antennae to ask for mama to regurgitate some yummies.

The little Insecticon smiled to himself, despite the fact that his own instincts were griping at him for giving up a portion of fuel, no matter how small, and cut a tiny slit on the side of the soft leech. A pearl of energon quickly beaded at the nick, and the little nymph nooted happily before gliding down to perch on the leech and suck up the offered fuel. It was smaller than even the little leech, and didn’t need much—after a few seconds, it skittered from the dead creature, up the Insecticon’s arm, up the helm, and latched back onto the crest. If you looked at him from the front, the youngling looked like he had an upright flobster tattooed on his crest. Within a few seconds, it was soundly in stasis, tiny tank full.

Satisfied that his little friend wouldn’t be wasting away anytime soon, the Insecticon set upon the rest of the leech, sucking out every bit of fuel until it was just an empty, squishy husk, which he promptly discarded over his shoulder. Tank now full—or, at least, fuller than it had been in a while—he pushed himself up to his pedes with a satisfied grunt. The flobsterling chittered softly before falling back asleep.

Time to get moving… it was quite a journey ahead of them.

#interlude #flobsterling will be explained in third installation

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the-runt-of-the-litter-blog · 11 years ago

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Interlude No. 1 : Promise

Under the blazing sun of Cybertron, among a vast range of high mountains, miles and miles away from the Crystal Valley he once called home in a now-distant memory, an Insecticon youngling blazed a trail across the sheer ledges of the cliffs, leaving a trail of dust clouds in his wake.

The little creature was following a trail, a path, outlined in the sky above—a mammoth migration of club-tails up to the northernmost ledges of the Sonic Canyons. He didn’t care why they were going there, but he did know one thing; wherever they went, there was bountiful pockets of crystalline fuel to be swiped and scavenged. His empty tanks rumbled at the very thought, little mandibles clicking in anticipation.

Empty tanks. Dangerously so…

The little one ground to a halt over many meters, leaving an impressive rut behind him. He wasn’t in danger of losing the trail any time soon, as the procession trailed behind him far enough to disappear over the horizon. The flying grey creatures were thick in the sky, and from the ground, the youngling could hear them excitedly nooting at one another as they traveled. Now should be a good break. He seated himself comfortably as he could on the hard ground and took a minute or two to scratch at the rust mites wriggling under his plating, scratched and dented and covered in grime, munching at his flaking enamel. Damn things itched.

That done, he pulled several small things from his subspace—a few small energon crystals, stolen from a turbo fox’s hoard while it was away; a few dead energy leeches he’d gotten from tricking a sheepacron into falling into a deep pool of them and then plucking them off the corpse once they were full; and what was left of the glitchmice he caught and hoarded before he began his trek. It wasn’t much. He fluttered his elytra and the little wings underneath in frustration.

The energon was first, disappearing down his gullet without a single chew. A flicker of a memory lapped at the back of his processor—smiling faceplates, gentle vocals, plentiful food—but it didn’t seem real. Just another mirage of the mind.

As his internal processor set to work purifying the crystals, he set upon the glitchmice. Every one, he’d killed carefully with a simple snap of the spinal cord to ensure none of the precious fluids inside could escape. He picked up the first—they were a bit bigger than the palm of the runtling Insecticon—and twisted its head off, sucking out the energon and soft metal bits inside. His systems began to grind louder, distributing the metals to help his stunted, chipping plates and growing protoform. He continued the same with the other three, and placed the two that were left back in his subspace. He looked at the still-full leeches, contemplating. It was tempting, but…

Oh, why not? He picked the smallest one up and popped it into his intake, bursting it between his molar dentae and swallowing the weak but plentiful energon. As for the rest, he’d save them for last, despite his tank’s protests. Rationing was his only option for survival. They went into his subspace as well.

Time to move again. He was losing light. Shortly, the little Insecticon was sprinting on all fours along his path of floating flobsters, hopefully to somewhere that, for a little while at least, held the promise of food.

#interludes

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