#primitive data

[al-mayriti]

hey do y'all know of somewhere i could learn about excel and how to properly use it??? i feel like if i learned the basics i would use it all the time but it's very daunting to me rn. also i don't know how well places like coursera or skillshare are, i don't know if they're more scam than actual places to learn stuff

[daz4i]

hsr entering its college au era fr

[voiceoutofstars]

Fan narration of a Relic entry in HSR’s Data Bank. This is the story of all four pieces of the Genius of Brilliant Stars set.

Music is “Perfect Beauty” by Zakhar Valaha.

[snarp]

I don't know how to code but I also don't know how to stop.

[ladyhallen]

Imagine finally writing something and then the internet cuts off so u cant post it. Wow.

[removeload-academy]

C++ Primitive Data Types in Hindi | C++ Data Types | C++ Tutorials

In C++, primitive data types (also called fundamental data types) are the most basic types of data provided by the language. They are built into the language and do not require additional libraries or header files to use. Each primitive data type in C++ has a predefined meaning and behavior. For more details, Kindly check my website URL. https://www.removeload.com/cpp-data-types

[lonelyrollingstar]

Oh hey I have this beautiful boy sitting right next to me!

NEC (1982)

[plaguedocboi]

Ok y’all brace yourselves cuz I just learned about a new animal

Yes, that is an animal. Yes, scientists refer to it as the purple sock worm. No, that’s not it’s real name, silly, it’s real name is Xenoturbella!

When these deep-sea socks were first discovered, no one knew what the fuck they were looking at (and, really, can you blame them?). They have no eyes, brains, or digestive tracts. They are literally just a bag of wet slop. DNA analysis initially seemed to indicate that they were related to mollusks, until the scientists realized that DNA sample was from the clams they had recently eaten (yes, they can eat with no organs. We don’t know how.)

Scientists then analyzed the data again and tentatively placed them in the group that includes acorn worms, saying that their ancestors probably had eyes, brains, and organs, but simplified as a response to their deep sea ecosystems.

Later DNA testing has since shown that they are their own thing! Xenoturbella, along with another simple and problematic to place creature called acoelomorphs, belong to their own phylum called Xenacelomorpha! This places them as the sister group to all bilateral animals. So, they just never evolved brains, eyes, or organs. They are a glimpse at a very primitive form of animal that never bothered to change, because apparently what they do works. Rock on, purple sock worm.

[revelboo]

YESS I HOPE YOU MAKE MORE PAPI MEGATRONUS 🫶

Give It Up Pt 4

Megatronus Prime x Reader

• Bored since your giant is staring at his weird alien tablet, you amuse yourself with trying to look up under his mask. Helmet. Whatever it is he has going on. Trying to decide if that’s his actual face or if there’s something underneath. Watch him remove a little thing from the tablet and hold it up grumbling nonsense at you while you lean to try and look under his mask and he taps you on your helmet hard enough with a servo to send you staggering back before handing you your display. Growling some more at you while you reattach it and he lifts his hand with the little thing he’d removed to touch the back of his helm.

• Fiddling with your primitive tech and chirping softly at him while he syncs the partially decoded language file, he shudders slightly as it integrates. “-twenty percent already? That can’t be right,” you’re mumbling as you swipe a gloved finger on your display. Helmet bent over the tiny screen, you make a soft noise. “How bad a way to go is suffocation?” Suffocation? Reaching out a servo, he hooks it around you and turns you. “Whoa, hey. Easy big guy.” Optics narrowing at the tank on the back of your suit, he vents. What exactly are you breathing?

• “What gasses are you breathing?” He asks and you freeze. Because he asked. In actual words instead of just growling at you. Gaping up at him, you’re silent. “Can you understand me, little one?” Reaching out he taps your oxygen tank and you stumble away, afraid he’s going to damage it without meaning to. How is he speaking your language? Is that what he wanted your console for? To learn your language?

• “I can understand you,” you say, shadowy features upturned to stare at him. “I need air, I’m running out. My tank might have a leak.” Rumbling softly, he knows the translation files are rough at best. Needing more data from you, from interacting with you to be complete. Needs you to keep talking. “Really wish I’d paid more attention in my science classes. Maybe if I could remember the molecule I could draw it.” Watches you lift your little hands, laying them on your helmet. Scared and alone in a strange place. Maybe one of his other Primes can help figure out your air?

• “Don’t worry, little one. You won’t suffocate,” he says and you want to believe him. Need to. Because you have much less oxygen than you’d initially thought. It was never meant to last long, though. You weren’t supposed to be on this side of the gate for more than five minutes tops. The suits meant to withstand radiation and hostile environments. For a short period of time. But there wasn’t supposed to be giant, sentient alien life on the other side either. Air, water, and food. If you can’t get access to all three, you’re dead.

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[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

yandere Hc/scenario In every soundwave you know please!!!! Everyday I'm craving for his content... although I'm more into human but I guess I could open to all kind like cybertronian s/o too

I'll be doing Prime, One and Earthspark since those are the versions I know best! (´▽｀Uu) I would do Animated too - but I know little of the series and only more about Optimus, Bee and Starscream.

（*＾-＾*）

Yandere!Soundwave (Headcanons) (TFP, TFO & TFE)

WARNINGS: Yandere behaviour. Mentions of stalking, kidnapping, obsessive ideas/thoughts. Reader is human (TFp & TFE) and Cybertronian (TFO) and gender neutral.

TRANSFORMERS PRIME: SOUNDWAVE

A possessive yandere that stalks and recollects everything about his beloved S/O.

Soundwaves was sure he would come to hate humans - they were like... parasites, too primitive. Inferior.

And yet - you were not like the other humans. You were... more.

Perfect, ethereal, unique - Soundwave was sure he caught a glitch or something, but his spark would beat at the rythm of your own heartbeat (Soundwave was sure his spark and your heart were bonded, connected - synchronized) whenever he got to see you.

Sadly, the Autobots got you before you and him got to meet like true sparkmates, as you accidentally saw one fight between the vehicons and that yellow autobot.

Soundwave got to see you when he connected with one of the vehicons and saw through their optics... oh, precious you.

To this day, Soundwave is not sure what made him fall overpedes for you - and that frustrastes him as it is the only knowledge he doesn't possess.

Definitely stalks you if you have any type of presence on the internet, no matter if you are a private user or an influencer.

Everything about you - any photo, any username, any post, e-mail, ubication, everything about you rests now deep inside of his system as data, and he keeps collecting more and more.

Soundwave would manage to kidnap you after sending you a false message under the impression it was from any of the autobots that tasked you to meet somewhere so they could take you to the base.

Before you could yell for help, you were already snatched.

Every little reaction, sound, mannerism, body language - anything is getting recorded and Soundwave is just so fascinated.

Treats you like the most fragile thing in the whole universe.

Allows himself to be selfish and keep you in his arms, working and from time to time, look down at you and place a kiss emoji in his mask.

Escaping is a far away dream of yours now - Soundwave knows everything and hears everything, and he made sure to not let you see anything about the Nemesis when he brought you to his quarters.

You are trapped - like a precious butterfly inside of a glass case.

"Soundwave: loves dearly S/O. Soundwave: knows everything about S/O. S/O: Soundwave's sparkmate."

TRANSFORMERS EARTHSPARK: SOUNDWAVE

Earthspark Soundwave gives me the vibes of a yandere that starts obsessing with you out of hate.

He wants to hate you - you were a human! A human like G.H.O.S.T (even when you were not related to that organization) that locked him and his fellow teammates after that traitor of Megatron betrayed all of them!

Changing a little bit the Earthspark's story - you and Soundwave crossed paths when Soundwave managed to escape from G.H.O.S.T's HQ - it was at night, and he was trying to find somewhere to hide.

Like the Maltos, many people in Witwicky had their homes in the forest. And it just happened that you had a home like that, too. Soundwave managed to hide behind it - and by Primus' choice, you were still wide awake right at 3 AM.

You would have screamed in fear at the sight of a giant robot - but you quickly catched on at how he just seemed to be trying to hide, not attacking you or anything. And when you heard many cars pulling right outside of your home.

Soundwave was just about to start running again, but when he heard the front door open and you come out, already screaming your lungs out to the agents to leave your property and such, managing to even scare them off as you didn't allow them to speak or anything.

"Threaten me all you want - it is 3 freaking AM and you are all suddenly just arriving to my property! I will call my lawyers and the town's mayor!" You yell as the agents finally leave. And you turn to the tall robot who peaks his helm from the back of your house. "Uh... you can stay - just, do not get those weirdos back or something. Good night."

Ugh! How Soundwave loaths you! With your boring life and your sympathy and your will to keep him hidden and stay at your territory! Your human behaviour, always telling him he could count with you, that you could be a shoulder to cry on and how you always give him that kind smile and those reassuring words, and...

In a few days and night, Soundwave becomes a protective, obsessive yandere who is not afraid of destroying others if it means to keep you safe.

Is not afraid of snatching you from your home and life the moment Optimus, Megatron and the others find out about his whereabouts and about you.

Vows silently to protect you with his own life - he was gonna shed the energon of others and his own to keep you safe and sound.

Cry and beg all you want to Soundwave about letting you go - he is not going to do so, dear. He is keeping you safe, he is keeping you far away from the same bots who ruined his life.

He is not gonna let them take you away from him - his new light of hope, his new reason to live and fight.

TRANSFORMERS ONE: SOUNDWAVE

You and Soundwave have known each other from a long time ago.

You two worked together, and you two followed the High guard after defecting from the False Prime's orders after witnessing all the horrible things he did and the murder of the Primes.

Many times you grieved after watching the fall of the Primes, knowing all of you were now in danger if Sentinel Prime and his followers found you all, no longer able to go home and knowing so many innocents were suffering at the hands of that monster.

Soundwave held you closer as you cried against his chesplate, trying to whisper you hopeful words... but he was slowly spiraling in a sea of despair and that sensation of everything seeming lost.

A delusional, overprotective yandere - with the pass of time, he starts to actually believe you two are the conjux of the other.

Doesn't leave you alone - he is always by your side or keeping you with him.

If he was already too protective before, with the arrival of those four bots from Iacon and the sight of how one of them nearly ended Starscream, Soundwave became ten times more protective - and add another 100 times when they were attacked by Sentinel Prime's people.

Imagine the despair and down righ madness if Soundwave witnessed you being one of the bots that got taken back to Iacon.

He might have actually... killed a few bots when he got into Iacon to fight back against Sentinel Prime's defenses.

When he found you, he hugged you so tightly and promised to protect you - he promised to kill anyone who ever tried to take away his beloved conjux.

You become a precious gem - when he leaves to follow Megatron after he is vanished from Iacon, he takes you with him, and you comply.

It was the mech you've known for so many years!

... But you can't help but be afraid at the fact that... the Soundwave you knew has changed.

And you decided to kept silence whenever he would whisper to you sweet, protective and delusional promises - you are his conjux, after all. He has to protect you, and he is not afraid of beheading anybot who stands in his way.

Can you believe I couldn't find a good TFO Soundwave gif here on tumblr? Tumblr, help me out, man. (╬▔皿▔)╯Vhaos out!

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Their pound of flesh

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“What is this all about? Why am I here?”

Prince Atalon was not accustomed to being ordered about, even less so by lower-class military generals. Yet here he was inside the command bunker of General Drak after his security detail whisked him away out of the blue.

“My apologies Prince, but I have just received troubling reports that your life is now in danger.”

This certainly wasn’t what the prince had been expecting, and he took the offered chair to sit as the general continued.

“Before I proceed, I need to ask you a question,” the general began. “Have you encountered any strange creatures, either in our quarter of the base or when touring our allies' quarters?”

“What nonsense is this?” Atalon pouted. “You say my life is in danger and then ask me about what wildlife I’ve seen?!”

“I assure you my prince, the question is related, now please answer it.”

The stern look of the general dissuaded the notion that this was some prank and so Atalon pondered in silence as he recalled his last few days.

“I spent the first three days in our section of the base meeting with soldiers in the hospital, then the fourth day was spent visiting the frontlines, and then finally the fifth day I returned here.”

“And did you encounter any strange creatures?”

“Well,” the prince replied as something did finally come to him, “on the way back my convoy drove past a group of humans being chased by a large avian bird. It came up to about their waist but the humans seemed terrified as they were running away and it was chasing it.”

“And what did you do?” the general inquired.

“I felt ashamed that such cowardly beings were our allies so I ordered the vehicle’s AI defense unit to terminate the creature and save the humans.”

“It put a plasma round clear through the creatures chest and it dropped to the ground soon after. It was so fast we didn’t even have time to stop and receive their accolades.” The prince answered with a cocky grin.

Several expressions passed over the Malin general’s face at this admission; shock, fear, regret, disbelief, and then finally, resolution.

“This was transmitted to me within the last hour.” The general continued as they spun a data pad around for the prince to see. “It is an order issued for your immediate detainment and extradition back to the human homeworld to face the charges of murder, assassination of a high ranking military official, espionage, and treason to name a few.”

“WHAT?!”

To say that the prince was dumbfounded would be an understatement.

“That avian you killed,” the general continued to delay any inevitable deluge of questions, “was in fact a Major General enlisted in the human forces here on base.”

Spinning the data pad around again the general scrolled through the information to find the correct designation. “The 304th Grenadiers were assigned as their protection detail and were the humans you saw with it.”

He looked up at the prince. “They weren’t running in fear, they were playing with them.”

“Do you not hear yourself!? The absurdity of this!?!!”

The general shook his head at the prince’s question. “It doesn’t matter how stupid this situation is, the matter of fact is the human’s take this extremely seriously that if you are caught by the humans outside of our quarter you will most likely be killed.”

“They would murder me over a primitive bird?!” the prince stammered.

Without saying anything the general selected an audio file from the pad and played it.

���You listen and you listen good,” the voice began. The prince could identify the thick grunge of a human voice and accent. “That bird your callus fuck murder has survived thirteen campaigns, and their family another three hundred and seventy three without ever losing one of their number in the field of combat until now.”

The prince made to say something but the general held up a hand and bade them to continue listening.

“The way we see it is you just offed one of our own, and you better pray that the provosts get you first and get you off world to hang; because if we get you there won’t be enough of you lift to identify by.”

With that the ominous message ended and the general looked up at the prince.

“You now understand the seriousness of this situation I hope.” He returned the data pad to his desk and clasped his taloned fingers. “There are over six thousand human soldiers part of our task force here and this message could have been sent by any of them, meaning there are now over six thousand veteran soldiers who have a potential death mark for you.”

He leaned forward to the prince, his expression removed of any levity for the situation.

“If you wish to remain alive until their provosts come for you I strongly advise you remain here and avoid any exposure outside what-so-ever; is that understood?”

“And if I refuse?” the prince asked; clinging to the notion that their position would keep them safe.

The general was about to answer when a loud chanting began echoing from outside and into the bunker. Tapping his ear piece the general asked for a status update and waited patiently as the response came in.

“Then you will not last the night, as it seems they’re already outside with a noose to hang you with.”

[an0nymousmessenger]

The Scientific Method of Falling

Senku doesn’t dance—so naturally, you pull him onto the floor.

senku ishigami x reader

word count: 2.5k

a/n: University au.

“Come on, Senku. One dance. ”  

You dangle the challenge between your fingers, knowing exactly what you’re doing.

The event was loud. 

Overdressed students swayed under dim lights, champagne-colored drapes lining the walls of the student lounge. A room that was buzzing with energy with half the engineering department squeezed into the space, music humming beneath the chatter.

Off to the side, near the speakers, Gen lounges with the easy grace of a cat who’s just stirred up trouble. Chrome bounces on the balls of his feet, clearly excited, while Kohaku looks on with arms crossed, already grinning like she knows how this ends.

Senku, standing beside you, arms crossed, raises a brow. “Dancing is a primitive form of nonverbal communication. There is no logical reason for me to—”  

“Oh?” you interrupt, stepping slightly closer, stepping into his space. Your hands lace behind your back in mock innocence. “So you’re saying you can’t do it?”

There’s a pause.

A flicker of something sharp passes through his expression. “That’s not what I said,” he replies coolly.

You press in, just a fraction more. “Then prove it.” A slow, daring smile spreads across your lips. “Unless... you’re scared?”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you know you’ve won.

He exhales through his nose, something close to a scoff. There’s no real irritation in it, but the spark has caught.

“Scared?” he repeats under his breath, more to himself than to you. As if the hypothesis were so absurd it didn’t even deserve peer review. With one last glance at the expectant group, he places his drink down with a clink. “Fine.”

A whoop rises from your mutual friends. Gen pumps a fist like he’s just watched a domino fall exactly as predicted. Kohaku slaps him on the back, muttering something about being owed a soda. Someone not-so-subtly turns the music up, the bass rolling deeper now, setting the tempo. Before before Senku can reconsider, you are already grabbing his sleeve, eyes glinting with something mischievous as your fingers slide into his.

As you lead him onto the dance floor, hands clasped, you can’t help but notice an insignificant detail.  

His hands are warm and calloused, a sign of experiments and late nights in the lab. He hesitates as he places one hand on your waist, like he’s running calculations, trying to solve a problem that refuses to fit into neat equations.  

“Relax, Senku,” you murmur, leaning in just enough to be heard over the music. “It’s just one song.”

“Tch. It is if you don’t want to end up in the ER with a broken toe.”

“Oh? Are you implying you’d mess up?”

His grip on your waist tightens imperceptibly, jaw ticking.

“Hah. As if,” he mutters, gaze flicking down briefly to your feet.

And then the music starts.  

He doesn't stumble. He won't.

You met his gaze, tilting your head.

It was almost amusing—how he moved with practiced ease, as if understanding the mechanics of something was enough to perfect it.

You lead—just slightly—knowing he’ll catch on. However, halfway through, he does something unexpected.

He pulls you off balance.

Not a mistake. A test.   

Your breath catches, and his grip tightens just before you stumble, a split-second smirk flickering across his lips. “See?” he murmurs, voice low. “Now, who’s struggling with basic physics?”  

Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his shirt, mock-scandalized. “That was dirty.”  

“Just data collection,” he replies without missing a beat.

You exhale a laugh, rolling your eyes.

You drag him along with the music, keeping the tempo constant in your mind as you count.

The thing about dancing with Senku is that it isn’t dancing at all.  

It’s a battle.  

A war of subtle footwork, unspoken challenges, and just enough smugness to make you want to wipe that sharp-edged smirk off his face.  

“Admit it,” he muses, as you try to regain your footing after his last maneuver. “You underestimated me.”  

You scoff, feigning composure as you tighten your grip on his hand. “Hardly. You’re just applying kinematics to a social setting.”  

You twist, attempting to catch him off guard, off his axis, but his reflexes are too quick, his weight shifting smoothly. He lets you take control for just a second before countering with an effortless pivot, keeping you exactly where he wants.  

Somewhere in the background, Gen is cackling.  

“Did you just—” You squint at him. “Did you just redirect my center of mass?”  

Senku tilts his head, feigning innocence. “What, am I not allowed to optimize movement efficiency?”  

The absolute nerve.  

The small crowd around you is thoroughly entertained, half of them cheering for you to win, the other half placing silent bets on Senku. Chrome leans toward Kohaku. “This is the nerdiest fight I’ve ever seen.”  

Kohaku smirks. “Yeah, but it’s good .”  

You decide to go for the kill.  

You abruptly switch tempo, guiding Senku into a dip. It’s bold, a complete power move, and—  

Oh.  

For the first time tonight, he stumbles.  

His balance wavers for half a second before his grip tightens, fingers pressing into your waist as he recovers. His eyes flicker , realization dawning.  

You just managed to one-up him.  

The split second of speechlessness is golden.  

“Checkmate,” you murmur, the satisfaction laced through every syllable, unable to hide the victorious glint in your eyes.  

Senku exhales through his nose, lips curling. “Not bad.”  

And then, in an act of absolute pettiness , he does something you don’t expect.  

He drops his weight just enough to make you lose your balance too —forcing you to grip his shoulders as he steadies you. The closeness is sudden, the air charged.  

Your breath catches.  

Senku’s eyes narrow like he’s just as caught off guard by the proximity as you are.  

From the sidelines, Gen whistles.  

“Now that’s a stalemate if I’ve ever seen one.”

.��

The song ends, but the tension lingers.  

Senku’s breath is still even, his fingers still lightly pressed against your waist, like he hasn’t fully decided whether to step back or commit to whatever this battle-turned-dance-turned-moment has become.  

You, on the other hand, are very aware of the dozens of eyes on you.  

Gen’s smirk is insufferable .  

Kohaku crosses her arms, watching with mild amusement. Chrome looks torn between awe and confusion, and Ukyo, ever the composed observer, merely raises a brow.  

You clear your throat and pull back. “Well, that was—”  

Senku straightens, rolling his shoulders like nothing happened. “A physics experiment.”  

You blink. “Come again?”

He gestures vaguely. “Kinematics. Inertia. Angular momentum. All pretty textbook, if you ignore the ridiculous tempo.”

Of course. This man weaponizes physics to avoid addressing anything remotely sentimental.  

Gen leans in, far too amused. “Oh, so you call that physics? Because from here, it looked like something else entirely, Senku-chan~” 

Senku ignores him.  

You don’t.  

You arch a brow and fire back at Gen, “What, were you expecting a rose-petal confession mid-spin? Should I have lifted him? Maybe thrown in a violin solo for dramatic effect?”

Gen’s grin widens. “Please do. All in the name of scientific inquiry, of course.”

Senku clicks his tongue, already striding away like he hasn’t just fled a war zone dressed as a waltz. “Tch. You’re all hopeless.”

You shake your head, half-laughing as you follow, matching his stride effortlessly.  

Behind you, the rest of the group begins to scatter. Kohaku goes to find another glass of punch, Gen starts recounting the scene to anyone who’ll listen (with at least three embellished versions already in circulation), and Chrome is halfway through sketching out the “dance physics” in his personal journal that he always carries around.

.✦

The taxi smells faintly of worn leather and a trace of synthetic pine—probably one of those dangling tree-shaped air fresheners that’s long since lost the battle. Outside, the city pulses quietly in the late hours—streetlights casting lazy golden halos, occasional headlights slicing through the dark, and the echo of other students laughing their way home from the same event.

Senku sits beside you, jacket discarded and tossed somewhere to the side. His shirt sleeves are slightly creased from the night, his tie half-undone and hanging askew around his collar. He still manages that effortless kind of sharpness—like even exhaustion can’t fully dull him—but there’s a tell in the way his posture slouches just a little, and in how his eyes blink slower now, his exhaustion is showing.   

You lean your temple against the cool window, the hum of alcohol softening the world, making the lights smear just slightly. Everything feels warm and quiet and a little unreal.

“Still analyzing the physics of the dance floor?” you tease, eyes flicking toward him. 

Senku huffs, amused. “I already did that. The conclusion? Unstable flooring and questionable music choices.”  

You laugh—half because it's funny, half because it's so typically him-and the taxi driver glances at you two through the rearview mirror, probably used to ferrying students like this—half-dressed down from an event, running on leftover adrenaline and lingering amusement.  

Silence slips in again, not awkward—just... still. Comfortable.

And then you feel it—light pressure against your wrist.

Senku’s touch is absentminded, his thumb grazing your pulse like he's measuring something. Not quite looking at you, not pulling away either.   

Senku’s fingers, cool and steady, brush your skin. His thumb presses just barely over your pulse point, casual but deliberate, like he’s not really thinking about it and also thinking entirely too much.

You raise an eyebrow without lifting your head. “Taking vitals now?”

“Tch.” He rolls his eyes, but his hand doesn’t move. “You’re tipsy.”

“So?” You draw the word out, playfully.

His head tilts back against the seat, eyes tracking something invisible across the ceiling. “So I’m making sure you don’t pass out in the middle of a taxi ride. Do you have any idea how much bodily fluid the average cab sees in a week?”

You blink. “That’s not comforting.”

“Exactly.”

But his thumb is still moving—slow circles, a mechanical repetition that betrays the edge of something he won’t admit to out loud.

You smirk, just a little. “And what happens if I do pass out?”

Senku glances at you sidelong, face deadpan. “I leave you in the lobby. Natural selection can handle it from there.”

You snort. “Liar.”  

Senku doesn’t argue.  

(And his fingers are still resting against your wrist, tracing idle, thoughtless patterns on your skin.)  

By the time the taxi slows to a stop, the air outside bites at your skin—crisp and quiet, with just a hint of leftover spring chill.

You step out and immediately wobble in your shoes, misjudging the pavement slope. Senku’s hand catches your elbow before you can tilt too far.

“Still think I’m not gonna pass out?” you mutter.

“You’re not,” he replies flatly. “If you were, you wouldn’t be asking that.”

You side-eye him. "Are you sure? Because I feel like if I pass out now, you're the one who's gonna be stuck carrying me."  

Senku clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Nope. That’s what the laws of physics are for. If you collapse, I’ll use leverage to prop you against a bench and let gravity do its thing."  

"Wow," you deadpan . "Romantic."  

He smirks. "Isn't it?"  

You shake your head, but his grip lingers, fingers brushing over the fabric of your dress as he adjusts his hold, making sure you don’t slip.  

The dormitory steps feel steeper than usual, and the overhead lamp flickers as you both pause at the entrance.  

Senku exhales slowly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Go sleep off your bad life choices. I’ve got three pages of pseudoscientific theories to transcribe from people who think drinking cranberry juice makes them impervious to embarrassment.”

You turn around, laughing. “Can’t wait to see that published in Nature.”

“Nature wouldn’t take it. Scientific Reports, maybe.”

You roll your eyes, and he turns to leave—  

But before he can take another step, you reach up, fingers brushing against the loose tie around his neck, straightening it slightly.  

Senku stills.  

Your touch is brief, quick, but it’s enough to make him pause, the flicker of something unreadable passing through his expression.  

"Goodnight, Senku," you murmur.  

And then, before he can come up with a snarky response—  

You disappear into your dorm, leaving him standing there, tie still slightly undone, eyes trailing after you.  

He stands there, staring for a second too long.

His hand rises to adjust the tie again—but it doesn’t need adjusting.

He just exhales, running a hand through his hair.  

Maybe tonight’s data collection is going to take longer than expected.

.✦

The Engineering Department is still talking about it the next morning.

Word travels fast when you pack a dance floor with half the student body and manage to derail an otherwise formulaic academic gala with a spontaneous display of questionable rhythm and high-level physics.

Apparently, someone caught the entire thing on video. The clip made it to the university subreddit overnight, and by sunrise, the aerospace students were already deep in debate, and now half the aerospace students are debating whether Senku pulled off a kinetically optimized waltz or whether he was actually flustered for once in his life.  

(You neither confirm nor deny either theory. That’s above your pay grade.)

In the physics department, someone—probably one of the grad students with too much free time and a dark sense of humor—has relabeled the video under the title:

"The Mad Scientist and Their Archive—A Study in Applied Dynamics."  

Senku pretends not to care.

He doesn’t comment, doesn’t like or repost it, doesn’t even scowl when people bring it up. He just shoves his hands deeper into his coat pockets and walks a little faster between lectures.

But when Ryusui sends him the video with a dramatic, “So, is this your future co-pilot or your future spouse?” Senku immediately blocks him across all platforms.

Not muted. Blocked.

(It’s probably not the first time.)

Meanwhile, you?  

You find it hilarious. The video’s funny. The rumors are funnier. And watching Senku try to navigate viral fame like it's a malfunctioning centrifuge is, frankly, the highlight of your morning.

“Department royalty,” Gen drawls, nudging your elbow as you wait in line at the campus café. “You’re both basically campus legends now. Someone drew fan art of you with a lab coat and a cape.”

You snort into your coffee lid. “Please. That implies we care about popularity.”

Gen’s eyes glint with mischief over the rim of his cup. “No, but Senku cares about one thing.”

You raise an eyebrow, already skeptical. “Which is?”

Gen only smiles—sharp and knowing—and turns on his heel, walking away like he’s just dropped the punchline of a joke only he understands.

You’re left standing there, coffee in hand, watching him go with a sigh that’s mostly exasperation and just a little bit curiosity.

You don’t press further.

But maybe, just maybe, you'll keep that video saved in a private folder. For data collection, obviously. Purely academic.

Probably.

[voiceoutofstars]

A re-record of the Data Bank (Factions) entry on Galaxy Rangers, with the paragraph expansion added in patch 2.3.

Music is “Beata” by OB-LIX.

[lizardsfromspace]

It's probably going to look odd in retrospect that, at a time in spec fic history where so many were trying to be optimistic and move away from dystopia - where we coined half a dozen terms for a genre of optimistic spec fic - where so many were trying to capture the energy of old Star Trek, new Star Trek was mired in a sea of being Dark and Edgy

I've heard it brought up that it makes sense because it's capturing the times. But the idea that you have to go as dark as the times to capture them doesn't work. For one, a lot of "dark" new Star Trek has little to say. Season 1 of DIS starts with a rather decent first half about a war between the Federation and Klingons, sparked by Klingon's fears of their culture being erased by the encroaching Federation, told from both POVs, and then halfway through it ditches all that to become a story about evil people from the evil dimension. Season 2 of DIS starts with a scattershot story about the Space CIA's AI gaining power and turning on its creators, and then becomes a story about a generic evil computer doing bootleg Borg activities to capture data from an alien ball. Deep Space Nine it is not

But Star Trek always reflected its time. The original series reflected the Cold War and Vietnam by...giving us a Soviet on the bridge, and telling stories that undercut conflict: the Romulan Captain telling Kirk in another timeline they're of a kind, the reveal that the Gorn are invaded and not invaders, the whole first Klingon episode revolving around seemingly primitive aliens who force the superpowers into ending their war and who tell them they'll be allies in the future. At the height of Reaganism, they firmly established that the Federation is a utopia without money or a profit motive. You can "reflect the times" by showing the *opposite* of the times - by imagining something more optimistic than the world around you.

[keferon]

Why’d monster hunter brainstorm timetravel to the specific era the story takes place?

Will the others ever see his alt mode?

The reason is the same as in canon - he wanted to save Quark.

Okay, I'll try and keep this short and sweet.

Brainstorm lives in the far future and is happy with Quark, until one day it turns out that Quark has a fatal spark disease that will kill him if nothing is done about it. They of course go to the hospital, but it turns out that only certain types of the disease are treatable and modern science still can't do anything about it.

Long story short, no one knows how to cure Quark's spark.

Brainstorm, as a true scientist and a good conjunx, naturally begins to research the subject himself and stumbles upon some strange information. All the sources, studies and records on the study of this disease go back a long fucking way. All that modern scientists have been doing for the last million years is just improving and refining the method of treatment, which was invented in absolute antiquity.

Brainstorm investigates further.

He discovers, all the original research records belonged to a mech named Perseptor, who amongst many other things was studying sparks. And it's when Brainstorm manages to get his hands on copies of these very original records that he finally realises why no one has been able to take this research any further. The records are very well structured, detailed and accurate, but half of the information is taken out of nowhere. The Perseptor specifies the types of sparks that certain substances affect in certain ways, but nowhere does he mention where he got this information from. He might, for example, write that certain types of sparks tend to develop internal micro-cracks when exposed to certain factors for long periods of time. And Brainstorm, having read that, can only stare blankly into space, because yes, micro-cracks in sparks is something that exists. But even in his time, there's no equipment that can detect them if they're INSIDE. So how the hell did an ancient mech with his primitive tools figure all this out???

His curiosity isn't satisfied. The research just cuts off in the middle, as if the mech that did it just abandoned it or died suddenly.

Brainstorm, like many scientists before him, tries to start his own research based on the information pointed out by Perseptor, but finds himself at the same dead end as all the medicine of his time. He just doesn't have the same mysterious way of collecting data that this...Perseptor had.

And Quark isn't getting any better

Eventually, Brainstorm comes up with a brilliant idea. What if, instead of trying to find a cure, he just (ha! Just.) went back in time and saved the dude who was definitely going to invent the cure but didn't have time? He decides it's genius and creates a time machine.

He goes back in time to find Perseptor and well, he gets a surprise. Turns out the dude who researched spark disease was a spark eater. And also on the verge of starvation, but Brainstorm finds a way to help him, it's all good:) It turns out that all this time, Perseptor didn't have any mysterious equipment to analyse the sparks, he was the equipment himself. In fact, he didn't specify the sources of his findings for the research, because the phrase ‘I figured it out because it tasted different’ sounds incredibly compromising and would have signed Percy's death warrant if his notes had fallen into the wrong hands.

Next, I'm not sure how it would have developed. I think as the story progresses, Perseptor and Brainstorm work together to invent a cure for Quark. And then, if you like to cry, Brainstorm goes back to the future and cures him, and Perseptor stays in the past.

If you want adventure, Brainstorm could take Percy back to the future with him. Quark would be really fucking scared and confused at first, but they'd figure it out quickly and conjunx Percy into their futuristic fluffy pairing. (Also, I have a lot of fun thinking about Brainstorm and Quark showing Percy the advances of future science, and the future world in general.

Also, I think Brainstorm would do a good job of hiding his alt mode while he was in the past, but a couple of times would use it to escape from someone. One time he'd also give Percy a ride, and I know Percy would be incredibly freaked out by the breakneck speed that jets can achieve ahahaha

——

That…wasn’t as short as I wanted…..my inner fic writer took control

[smallestapplin]

Can I request some cute Soundwave stuff? 👉🏻👈🏻 Maybe human reader bringing him some of their favorite songs and trying to dance with him despite the huge height difference.

I am so down bad for this thank you.

-

-

You smile up at Soundwave, finding his curious head tilt adorable as you held up a device for him to look at. Earth technology is so primitive compared to Cybertrons, so it takes him a moment to realize it’s a music device? But it’s so small.

“Inquiry : what is this?”

You chuckle before gesturing for it back, “It’s my phone, silly! I was hoping, since things have been steady, I could show you some songs I like, maybe I could make a playlist for us.”

The large mech’s visor gleams down from where you stand on his desk, staring down at you knowing you can’t read his hidden expression, and for once Soundwave is grateful for that, you can’t see his optics go wide at your words or the small smile twitching on his dermas.

A playlist for just the two of you? He could make one, in fact he could make personalized songs for you, maybe-

“Soundwave? It’s alright if you don’t want to hear Earth music, I won’t make you.”

“No, please proceed, I want to hear what you like.” He sets his data pad down, his attention fully onto you and your tiny device. The music is too quiet to start, but Soundwave always comes in with a plan, using your phone’s Bluetooth to hook it up to his own systems.

You look happy, even swaying to the upbeat music and singing a long to your catchy love song. Humans are strange, you are strange, yet his spark pulses as he feels like you’re directing it at him.

Such strange words, but he’s quick to catch on and mentally replace the human words with Cybertronian terms, making it clear what it’s about.

“C’mon, give me your hand, or your finger. You need to loosen up.”

His visor brightens and the music skips a beat before swiftly getting back on track, are you asking him to dance? You’re so much smaller than him, so so tiny, and yet he finds himself mindlessly agreeing. Your tiny hands wrap around his index digit, pulling slightly to get him closer and to follow your beat.

He feels like he’s back on Cybertron before the war, care free, doing what he loves after work. Soundwave easily begins to follow, his hips swaying and pedes moving to the beat as if in a tango with you, moving and swinging you around his desk, dipping you gently.

Spark thrumming at the sound of your gleeful laughs and giggles, he can’t help joining you in your joy with soft laughter of his own. It feels silly dancing like this, yet you two move in sync, matching each others rhythm. There is a comfort in knowing that, as he records your smiling face, how you look up at him with such raw love and adoration. He’s moving before he can even process it, picking you up in his servo, catching you off guard, and holding you face level with him.

“Whoa! H-hey, a warning next time, yeah?” You laugh, sitting sweetly in the center of his servo.

Your eyes sparkling as his mouth guard retracts, letting you see his lips for once, even in the time you’ve been together he’s never liked taking it off, but now?

“May I kiss you?”

Your cheeks feel like they are burning, eyes widening at his request, but how you’ve always wanted to.

“I’d like that.”

There it is again, the music skipping a few beats, as if affected by his emotions. You stand up carefully, walking closer to him as he moves you closer to his face plate. It’s a bit awkward, but it’s so pure in his optics, how your much softer lips press against his derma, by this point the music is a jumbled up mess unable to play right from the flustered mess of a con before you.

You are all he wants, everything he damned.

Brain module racing for ideas on what songs to make you, what earth songs he could add to it, anything just he needs to make it for you.

“Thank you for the dance, Soundwave.”

He almost wanted to kiss you again the second you pulled away from him.

“Request : can we do this again?”

Your joy is infectious, almost as much as you getting to see his smile, though only briefly as his mask is quickly brought back up, hiding his lips from your view again.

Your heart racing knowing you must be special to him for such an act.

“I’d like that very much.”