#terran replies

[earthenterran]

15, for the book ask meme

15. recommend and review a book.

OH, here's one. Ico: Castle in the Mist, by Miyuki Miyabe (trans. by Alexander O. Smith).

it's an adaptation of the video game ICO, and about a boy with horns offered to a castle as a sacrifice bc they thought him an evil omen, and he escapes his imprisonment in said castle and helps this ghostly glowing girl escape as well from the queen of said castle. The game itself has like, no dialogue, and there's story but not like, exposition. Not much of it from what I remember. Definitely not what's in the book.

The book offers a lot more exposition and character talk. It's been ages since I read it tbh but the experience was special. I read it while playing the game, pacing it so I was at the same points in both the game and the book and going through it as I did. It just really enhanced the story. I got the wonderfully written story expanding the original ICO while interacting in the world with the beautiful soundtrack and giving myself time to go through both at my own pace.

I think the book itself is quite nice on its own, and a good extension if you enjoyed the ICO game

[khytal]

We doing Clay requests????? Can we get Clay showing of his Gavinners merch

awful. terrible. 0/10

extra:

[thepollyjustice]

A little bird told me that you used to have a crush pon your buddy Clay. Is t true?

(Hope the blond prosecutor doesn't see this)

“…uh. Maybe..”

[transingthoseformers]

So... my thoughts on the show?

I'm praying for a second season already, can't wait to read the fanfiction, maybe I can live a little longer. If only for the damn transformers.

[asecretvice]

Hey, I've been making personal physical copies of fanfic that I absolutely adore into bound books, and I recently finished a collection with your story "Spiders" in it in honor of Halloween. Likely more to come as I adore almost every one of your fics that I've read (even have your Terran Tales of Star Trekk in a new collection im working on binding), but I hope its ok with you that I credited you. Here's the original post if you'd like to check it out; https://www.tumblr.com/ican-fixitbooks/728418215079854080/my-latest-creation-for-some-of-my-favorite?source=share

And thanks! Your stories have meant a lot to me, and I hope you've either kept writing for yourself or found other ways to just be happy.

As long as the construction of the book was a completely homemade venture, I'm happy to be included! I'm very proud of Spiders, so it means a lot to me that you like it so much. And what a throwback to my Star Trek stuff! It's Like the Old Terran Fairy Tales holds a special place in my heart. It's always so wonderful to hear that one's older works are still being read and enjoyed!

And how kind that last sentiment is. Unfortunately I wish I had a better answer for you; instead all I'll say is your thoughtfulness is tenderly felt and deeply appreciated. <3

[reel-fear]

I think you guys are losing it with the Earthspark critiques now actually like at first I was on board but now it feels like u guys have forgotten we've only got one season so far and 99% of what we have seen was clearly set up for later pay off like calm down a little-

[explosionshark]

9 and 17!

9. Did you get into any new genres?

not really! i got more into fantasy this year than any year before in my adult life, but that's not exactly new.

17. Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

I read A Night in Lonesome October by Robert Zelazny this year for the first time, advent-calendar-style. There's 31 chapters, so the idea is you read one for each night in October. Turned out to be a REALLY fun way to fit another book into my month. It was my first time reading Zelazny. I didn't expect to like it much because it has 1) animal protagonists and 2) a plot hinging on literary allusions - two things that don't really appeal to me very much most of the time. But the writing was so fun and the story was so engaging, I ended up being so charmed by it. Snuff the dog, I take back every mean thing I ever thought about you.

end of year book asks

[tinydefector]

Was wondering if you could do some earth spark Megatron x reader, there isn't alot of them and I'd love to see what you could come up with.

The Malto's Neighbour

Megatron x human

Warning: none.

Wordcount: 1.6k

Megatron masterlist

Really hope you guys like this, and woo first piece for earthspark since I've started watching the series. Hope you guys enjoy the chaos which is to come.

________________________

The Malto's property is a busy one, Twitch yelling at the others as they practise. "Keep up slow poke Twitch's madly zips between the hay bales strewn across the yard, chassis buzzing with energy. "Gotta be faster than that, Jawbreaker!" She shouted gleefully, panels flared and fans roaring. 

Hashtag revved her engine competitively, darting around the yard in tight circles as she sought an opening to knock Thrust off his pedes laughter echoing from all of them. Nearby, Nightshade sculpted away as they planned out new projects. 

Dot smiles as she watches her kids run around the yard, and back and forth from the barn. "Play nice you lot!" She calls out while finishing her coffee. The sound of  propellers alerts her to Megatron's arrival. She looks out the other side of the widow with a smile as Megatron touches down. "Megs wasn't expecting to see you today" she calls out while walking out to meet him.

His optics scans the surrounding farmland, ensuring all remains secure within guarded borders, before his powerful lip components peel back in a fierce yet weary grin. "And risk missing the sparklings?" he retorts, striding over rust coloured soil towards the porch Dorothy stood on. 

His field pulses warmth upon seeing his friend, soaking in her calming company. “It is good to see you Dorothy” A gruff hum rumbles his massive frame, relaxing further.

"so optimus, has you playing babysitter today?" She asked with a smirk, trying to ruffle his plating. A scoffing snort bellows from Megatron's vents at the insinuation of playing nursemaid.

Twitch's laughter makes Megatron look up to watch as she flies around with Mo before their eyes and optics land on the ex-warlord. "Hi Mr Megatron!" A collection of voices call out, Dot laughs at her kids. "Believe it or not they seem to enjoy having you around, think they like you better than OP '' she states smugly. A rare soft chuckle rumbles from Megatron's frame. "Well if the Prime cannot appease youthful tastes, it seems his title means less than once assumed," he replies loftily, it earns him a small slap to his plating from Dorothy. 

Beside him, her own amusement rings sweet as Terran continues with their Shenanigans. Megatron's optics glint fondly. He didn't know how to voice his appreciation to the soldier turned ranger, she trusted him so willingly with her family and he would forever be thankful for that.  

Dot walks towards her work vehicle. "You gonna be alright dealing with all of them by yourself?. Alex shouldn't be far away" she replies while getting into the driver's seat and ready to head off to work. 

"Twitch Not fair only you and Nightshade can fly!" Hashtag calls out.

 

"Too bad bozo should have picked a better alt mode instead of a Ghost Van '' Twitch calls back as she takes off with their basketball before throwing in through the hoop.

This handful of newsparks posed no threat whatsoever, and he'd make sure they were protected while she was away.

"Worry not, I shall keep them entertained and out of trouble until your return" he rumbles, His massive frame shifts casually aside as Dot's vehicle rumbles past, optics following until taillights fade into rural tree line. Massive peds crunch soil as Megatron straightens, surveying once more. 

It's only once the kids mother has left do they go about doing their own things. 

Nightshade and Hashtag with little projects together. “Can you give me a tutorial on renovating?” Nightshade ask Hashtag as the two work away 

Jawbreaker finds himself sitting beside Megatron with Mo sitting in his lap. “But I never thought you had a grounded alt” Jawbreaker states while watching the ex Decepticon. “Much has changed since my time on cybertron and even while here on earth.” He starts. “I was once a miner, my Alt was that of a Mining Drill, it's only as of recently I've taken an alt mode of a flying type” he replies, a sad smile on his lips as he remembers. He's broken out of his memory when Twitch flies back in a panic. 

"There is someone on the property!, they didn't see me but i didn't stick around to get seen" She states and it makes all the young ones tense up. 

"You don't think it's GHOST again?" 

"It could be the neighbour!" Robbie states trying to calm everyone.

"Show me," he rumbles curtly to Twitch, striding toward the perimeter of the woodlands. His engine rumbles a warning growl. "Remain here. Stay out of sight, Little bird stay in drone mode in case it is GHOST."  The young terrans all retreat back into the barn watching. The wind whispers against his armour as he and Twitch move through the woods, Twitch stays close to Megatron's side hovering as they slowly scan the area. 

A loud whistle leaves a human as they move throughout the woodlands. "Bluey!" They call out while looking through the woods. "Blue! Come on!" They call before their eyes catch movements, they huff to themself moving closer hoping to find their dog. 

As they turn down another track they freeze when Scarlet optics linger on them, their body goes into fight or flight mode but instead of either they sand frozen to the spot hoping they hadn't been seen. Megatron freezes as well, optics narrowing to analyse the stranger before him. No weapon was drawn, but their presence alone was alarming. A low menacing growl rumbles leaves his intake, Twitch hovers over his shoulder plate quick to hide behind his back as she transformers, ember optics watching the human from behind Megatron as she clings to the large Mech. 

"Explain your business here, human," he demands. "You trespass" Twitch's faint glow flickers beside him, awaiting the answer that could mean swift action, depending on what the human said would decide how quickly she would fly back to the barn.

They fall to the ground moving backwards quickly. "BLUE!!" They shout loudly. The sound of heavy footsteps crunching against branches, leaf litter and rocks follow before a large cybernetic Dog stands in front of the human growling at Megatron. Its ears are pinned back as it barks loudly at the large Mech, guarding their human. 

Twitch's optics widen in shock. “No way you have a Robodog!” she squeals out in delight only for Megatron to make sure she stays behind him. 

 Megatron's optics narrow as he watches the Metal dog and vice versa. Bright blue optics watch his every move, the creature looked like a merge of cybertronian tech yet at the same time his scans said it was something different.

"Explain," he rumbles again, optics narrowing upon the trespassers. Loyalty to one's charge he respected, if nothing else. But his main concern was his charges and their safety. More footfall alerts Megatron to one of the children running towards them. Robbie pants as he catches up to Megatron, his eyes going wide when he sees his neighbour. “DON'T BLAST OUT NEIGHBOUR!" He yells loudly.

 

"You know them?" he asked Robbie who nodded. "Yea they leave across the woods, their another one of my Parents friend's!" He states only to flinch as the cyberdog sniffs him. its ears perk up and whines at the young man waiting for a pat. "Robbie?" The other human calls out in shock.

“Um Hey!, sorry about him” Robbie says sheepishly while patting the dog's face. "Um... when did you get a robot dog?" He asked his neighbour, they let out a groan as they continued laying on the ground. Crimson optics scan the pair, A rumbling purr vibrates his massive chassis, posture shifting from confrontational to watchful. "You seem acquainted. Explain yourselves further - why have these 'neighbours' not been introduced before now?" He asked Robbie. 

The young man turns back to Megatron. "Because the terrans are hiding from GHOST, Megatron," He states, but the shock of reality finally kicks in after he says those words. "We are all gonna be in deep shit when mom gets home," he says in a panic. Twitch perks up. "Ohhhhh, Robbie said a bad word! I'm telling mom!!" She shouts while flying out from behind Megatron's shoulder.

"Troubles abound it seems," he finally replies, his tone modulated into something approaching conciliatory. "Explanations are due. But not here, it isn't safe out here." Crimson optics scan the forest shadows. 

That's how they end up sitting in the Kitchen of the Malto's house with both Robbie and Mo, along with the Terrans watching them from windows and Megatron sitting on the ground beside the house watching. They slowly sip on their drink as the kids look at them with worry. "You're not going to tell anyone about the bots right?" Mo asked.

"What!, no, no! That would put Blue in more danger, I'm out here hiding him for the Government" they state. It makes all the terrans relax before questions fly about themself and their cyberdog. 

Megatron scans Blue appraisingly where the cyber-hound lies on the Doorstep near his Pede. He had never seen anything like this creature. He had his run in with turbofoxs and other creatures like on cybertron, but this one almost reminded him of Ravage in how protective they were of their human.

A sigh vents softly from Megatron's frame, he reaches out slowly running a servos over the dog's back which makes the mutt huff, before it rolls over in delight, soft chafing noises leave them. 

It's only when Alex returns that he realises something is up. "Kids... what's going on?" He asked his children. The older of the collect waves. "Um Hey Alex, you might wanna sit down" they call out to him. He nearly drops his shopping bags when he sees the Metallic Dog.

Enjoy the Art of Blue.

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[tgirlrobot]

Karyn Felicidae, Third Floret was a very sneaky floret. She knew that if Mistress had caught her in the act she'd probably be punished in an absolutely embarassing way, but she didn't want to dwell on that while she carefully cut a small piece of ribbon. The last time Maryn was caught with scissors, and god forbid, cutting some material, she was put into a doll-body with no motor control for a week! Mistress was especially mean to her during that time, making her say such embarrassing things like how she "loved her Mistress so much" and that "she would always be a good girl" and and and...

A small mental hiss of xenodrugs stopped the thoughts from going off-course. her spine-friend, her Haustoric Implant, she reminded herself. She needed to stay on travk while she built this... what was it she was building again? No matter. She laid the ribbon into a bath of ichor-black goop before placing it on the handheld structure, smiling as it contracted into a small, loose curl before the substance grew transparent, showing the shining silk underneath.

"Darn 'fini and their dumb... stuff." Karyn muttered to herself as she placed a green rod into the contraption, nodding to herself as she watched everything warp around it, accepting the additional mass and shifting it about, adding onto the figure in front. This was absolutely helping her escape plans of finally rejoining her crew before launching her attack on the stars-darned evil plants that gave her this pretty dress and fancy collar...

Who knows what they've done to her head, though! She might be a brainless slave working in the mines and all this was right now was a machination of her mind! Perishing that simply idioitic thought, Karyn simply fitted the final piece of glass into the masterpiece of an escape tool before leaning back, taking in the full thing in all its two-foot wonder. Green strips of material swung around and around, creating ropes and intricate patterns implying a greater depth to the humanoid model. Moss and red ribbon laid on the top, creating a facsimile of terran hair. Half-moon glasses sat in front of a pair of diamond gemstone eyes.

"Perfect!" A voice harmonied Karyn's, looking upon the mkdel figure of herself. "Look at all that detail, pet! Aren't you proud~!"

Karyn turned around to see her. Mistress Dandel Felicidae, 12th bloom, clapping a pair of woven vined hands together excitedly. The doll in her hands being a significantly downscaled version of the being towering over her. "Fear me, plant lady! My escape is assured woth this!" Karyn pushed the doll towards Dandel, who simply laughed in reaction.

"Of course it is, sweetie! Now come on, let's get you to go for a bath~ then you'll totally get rescued by your pinnates!" Dandel replies, picking up the doll with a single vine, to add to the collection on a shelf of "escape tools", like the adorable knitted sweater she got for her Coreday, or a bookmark made so she wouldn't lose her place in the adorable floret's domestication contract.

"Can we use the purple class A shampoo again? Please?" Karyn batted her eyes as the both walked to the bathroom. "The overnet said it makes me immune to head scritches! And the "class A" meant "Anti-Affini"!"

Dandel laughed jovially. Making a closed overnet where it was only her and the floret was the best decision ever. "Of course petal. You're surely going to be unstoppable if you're immune to head-scritches~"

Funnily enough, Karyn Felicidae was never immune to head scritches, and lost tonight's game of "can she escape the compact" (she never wins~)

[mlm-writer]

Daddy/Dearest (Wade Wilson x M!Reader)

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Alien!Cis!M!Reader  Rating: Mature (lowest I can go with a Deadpool fic) Words: 1048 POV: Third Summary: You matched with Deadpool on the intergalactic dating app Starcrossed. After exchanging many dick pics, you decided to visit Earth for your first date... and blow the planet up if the date sucked. Note: Inspired by the song Party Tonight by Joe Hedourix and this prompt. Tags: first date, fluff, idk who Nick Fury really is tbh, 4th wall breaks, romcom and reader’s appearance is a little vague but at some point I started imagining Megamind

“Deadpool! Open up!” Wade groaned at the insistent knocking on his door. He tried to rub his eyes, only to find out that he was still wearing his mask. A quick look down revealed he had fallen asleep on the couch in his PJs. The knocking at his door stopped, so he rested his body on the couch. He had barely closed his eyes, when the door was knocked down. 

He raised his head with a groan, only to be incredibly surprised by his guest. “Wow, Nick Fury, I am not sure if I am even supposed to know who you are, because the writer has seen exactly one movie in which you had a cat, but he supposes you’re an important dude or whatever.” 

“Shut it, motherfucker,” the man wearing a black trenchcoat barked back at Wade. He clearly took note of the dirty white shirt with a butt on it and the blue chequered underwear Wade was wearing, but he did not comment on it. “Do you know the app Starcrossed?” 

Wade laughed, not reading the room that had been filled with armoured men and women because we are inclusive here and women can and will kick your ass if provoked. 

“That app with all the metas on it? Why? Did we match? I’m sorry if I did not reply, but you’re not really my type and you must have been an accidental swipe.” 

“Stop yapping! Does this guy look familiar to you?” From his pocket he unfolded a picture printed on an A4 paper. Wade leaned in and squinted at the picture. He did recognise the person on it. 

“Oh yes that’s my daddy - not my father - but like a sexual daddy you know. You should see his dick.” Nick looked like he was gonna lose it. Wade could tell, but he frankly did not give a shit. 

“Well, your ‘daddy’ is the leader of an alien race, whose armada is in orbit right now to drop him off for a ‘date’ with you. So get dressed, because whether we get blown up or not today is apparently up to you.” That was a lot to take in, but Wade was used to weird days and this was simply just another one of them. 

Now it was common to be nervous for a first date, but the fully armed SWAT team dropping Wade off was not helping. He tried making conversation with them, but they seemed to blame him for possible annihilation before dinner time. 

When he stepped out of the chopper, there was a masculine figure waiting in front of the former military base. He held a large bouquet of iridescent flowers. They seemed either fake or from an alien planet. “Wadey!” The figure called out, waving frantically with all hands that were not holding the bouquet. The inhuman coloured skin seemed to change colour wherever the late morning sun was directly shining on it. 

“Hi daddy,” Wade called back in the same cooing tone. He skipped over to his date. “Are those for me?” He mused, knowing the answer as his date handed them to him. 

“I heard flowers are quite common to bring to a Terran date, so I brought some rare flowers from my planet for you. I am afraid they will not survive as long as they would on my planet though. The sun here is weak.” Wade smelled the flowers. They smelled like butt. Could be worse. At least Wade was familiar with the smell of butt. Wade held the flowers close as he thanked the other for them. “Well then, shall we? Your government was so kind to help me set up an Earth-date.” 

The atmosphere was… weird. There was a very extensive brunch on a beautifully decorated table, but they were surrounded by people keeping them at gunpoint. “You don’t seem bothered by being held at gunpoint,” Wade noted as he rolled up his mask just far enough to shove a croissant into his mouth. 

“Likewise,” his date smirked back at him. He reached out and touched the edges of the mask. “Come on, I already know your dick and ass are covered in scars. Your face cannot possibly scare me.” Wade thought about it. Well, his identity was not really a secret right now anyway. They already knew where he lived. Wade lifted his mask off his face, trying to not show how insecure he was about his fucked up face. However, when he looked at the alien before him, he swore he could see a hunger in his eyes. “If these people were not around, I would fuck your face right now,” the man sighed dreamily, before continuing to clumsily trying to spread butter on a piece of toast. 

Wade reached out and decided to help him. Their fingers briefly touched and Wade saw the other man smile at the contact. It set his body on fire with desire. “I frankly don’t care about the audience, but after writing all those kinktober fics the writer can really use a break from blowjob scenes, so let’s keep this from being E-rated.”

Wade sat back down after buttering his date’s toast. He watched as the alien’s facial features reacted to the taste of Earth food. “Fascinating,” he spoke softly. Wade chatted with his date and those mesmerising eyes and charming smile kept drawing him in. At some point he was sure even Nick Fury could smell his arousal from wherever he was keeping an eye on the situation. There was no more food left, when his date rose from his seat and offered one of his hands. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Wade grabbed his mask and put it back on. “We’ll have to fight our way out of here if we want to do that.” A corona of blue light started surrounding the alien, a devilish smile appearing on his face. The sudden display of power got people loading their guns and Wade’s gun filling up with blood really quickly. 

“Do not worry, dearest, that can be arranged,” the most powerful being that had ever held him spoke, before he blasted a hole in the line of armed people, lighting the way to their future in a flurry of blue. “Let’s have a good time, dearest.”

[earthenterran]

Hey Terran! What were some of your favorite books you read this year 👀

Of the books I actually finished all the way through: Fifteen Hundred Miles from the Sun BY Jonny Garza Villa

^This was probably my favorite. It's a story about a long distance realtionships between two guys as they finish up highschool. It's got a good mix of conflict, it's fun, there are painful parts (there is homophobia but also a very good support system), and it's probably one of the fastest books I read through. I know the author has another book (Ander and Santi Were Here) that I definitely want to read as well when it comes out next year! I also enjoyed Parasite BY Darcy Coates. I went in knowing it was horror, and wanting to try that. It was a good dip in the genre I think.

Lastly, that I'm Glad My Mom Died book by Jennette McCurdy, she's a solid writer, and I enjoyed how she told her story. (I also reread Gideon the Ninth and enjoyed that)

OF THE STUFF I STARTED BUT HAVEN'T FINISHED: The Order of Time by Carlo Rovelli Rovelli approaches the concepts of time from both a scientific and philosophical approach, and it made the topic a lot more digestible to me that other science books I've attempted to read in the past. Sabriel by Garth Nix Okay, tbf I'm not super far into it, I've only started this recently, but it was recommeded by one of my best friends as its his favorite series but it gives me nostalgic to the books I read when I was younger, and the imagery is really good so far. I'm so eager to see where this story takes me, I already know I'm going to enjoy the rest of it.

I'm definitely excited to read more with the upcoming year, I have so many books I wanna get through. OH OH! Last thing. I did get to read the last volume of the Life is Strange graphic novel (been getting them by the volume, not the issue, so I had to wait until spring to read it) and... I've said it before but... oh, my heart. I will reread this story to the end of time, it healed my hurt from the game's... stuff. Didn't take it away tbc, but gave me new things to enjoy, new moments to love, and new characters to root for.

[hopeisour4letteredword]

bff brunch gossip

ID under the cut

[ID: A seven-panel comic with flat colors. It shows a scene between Apollo Justice and Clay Terran from Ace Attorney, chatting with each other in a café. The walls of the café are light green, with light brown wooden booths, grey-brown seat cushions, and brown flooring. The tables are a darker brown wood and have blue vases with white and red flowers at each. There are paintings on the wall behind Apollo and Clay, who are sitting across from each other. Both have a white mug of coffee. Apollo is wearing blue jeans and a red v-neck shirt, while Clay wears a light blue overshirt over a grey shirt, khaki shorts, his black GYAXA visor, and black fingerless gloves. Panel 1: A full-body shot of Apollo and Clay, their booth, and the surrounding booths at the café. Both are leaning forward to rest their elbows on the table. Apollo has his arms crossed in front of him, and says, “So Klavier’s been talking about getting a cat.” Clay, holding his mug and propping his chin up with his other hand, replies, “Oh, really? Cool!” Panel 2: A shot of Apollo from the waist up, across the table. He glances to the side with an expression of minor embarrassment, blushing slightly. He says, “yeah, well. the thing is, I’m like…” Panel 3: Apollo leans forward, now looking at Clay and blushing more strongly as he finishes, “80% sure he’s trying to bait me into moving in??” He looks slightly aggravated. He gestures vaguely with one hand. Out-of-frame, Clay goes, “OHHH.” Panel 4: A shot of Clay from the waist up, across the table. He is leaning back in his seat, elbows still on the table, as he holds the hand that was on his chin half in front of his mouth to hide his smile. His eyebrows are raised. He says, “you think he’s hinting he wants YOUR cat around 24/7.” Apollo replies, “Right.” Clay says, “Aww, cute!” Panel 5: A waist-up shot of Clay and Apollo facing each other across the table. Apollo leans forward, elbows still on the table as he rubs the back of his neck and one of his cheeks, sheepish and blushing, but smiling with his eyes closed. He says, “Cute. Sure.” Clay also leans forward toward him, dropping his hand from his face as he says, “I mean, you’re gonna do it, yeah?” Apollo says, “yeah, yeah. it’s just…” Panel 6: A shot of Apollo from waist up, across the table. He gestures with one hand and has his chin propped on the other, half-hiding his own smile. He is still blushing. He asks, “morally speaking, would it be wrong to call his bluff,” Panel 7: A shot of Clay and Apollo, looking from behind Apollo’s shoulder to Clay across from him. Apollo, grinning, finishes, “and not move in until after he gets another—“ Clay erupts into laughter, banging on the table with one hand. Apollo says, “Clay—Clay I’m serious!!” /End ID]

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Unlucky Kevin

( 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)

“Who’s that?”

Jib looked up from his lunch platter and followed the direction of Tiy’s nod to the lone human sitting at alone in the cafeteria.

“Ah, that’s right,” Jib remarked as he returned his attention to his food, “I forgot you just transferred in so you wouldn’t know the most famous human on the ship.”

“You need to stay away from them at all costs.” Jib finished as he took a bite of the Tunga sticks.

“Why? I heard humans are friendly.” Tiy remarked as her interest was now peaked. “They do not look like they are dangerous.”

Jib shook his head. “You don’t get it; that’s “Unlucky Kevin”.”

“What?”

Tiy snickered at the name but stopped when Jib’s expression did not soften. “You can’t be serious?”

“I am.” He replied coldly.

“What makes them unlucky?”

“Everyone around him dies.”

Tiy leaned over to look at this Kevin but Jib moved himself into her line of sight blocking her.

“Don’t even look in his direction.” He cautioned. “You don’t want to be caught in his death field.”

The look of confusion must have chipped away some of Jib’s nonresponse as he set down his fork and decided to explain further.

“That human is called Kevin Donger. He originally served in the 113th tactical terran  legion when the campaign started.”

“The 113th?” Tiy replied, “But I thought they all died during the failed drop on Morgus III?”

Jib shook his head. “Everyone but Kevin did. He was the only survivor and was then transferred to the 43rd mechanized terran legion.”

Tiy’s eyes widened at this news. “Didn’t they-“

“-get wiped out during the Springs Offensive on Hape Prime; all of them but him at which point he was transferred to the 800thdrop force.”

“Who-“

“-got annihilated at the final siege of Ogmar Fortress on Ceptus IV.” Jib cut in yet again.

Tiy sat in silence as Jib rattled off several more distinguished terran formations that this Kevin had been transferred to, and each having fallen to a terrible fate on the battlefield. At the end Tiy sat in silence and only now began averting her gaze from the human as the circumstances finally seemed to catch up to her.

“If this is true,” Tiy spoke softly, “why is he still at the frontlines and on our ship?”

Jib shrugged. “Word was he is being sent to his new assignment on Keff V and we were the only ship heading there.”

“Does that not mean we are in danger of dying as well?” Tiy remarked as from the corner of her eye see saw the human getting up and begin to leave the cafeteria.

“I pray to the gods that we are-“ -------------------------------------

“This is Captain Morris; we’ve found the wreckage of the Temen Song and are beginning our search for survivors.”

Looking out from the bridge view screens Morris was not hopeful of the last part. Strewn across the empty void of space before his ship was the blasted remains of a Terengi transport ship. Its hull was breached in several dozen places and it looked as if its engine components had violently torn themselves free from the vessels superstructure like rockets fired from a launcher.

“Any idea what could have done this?”

Morris nodded sadly at his second in command’s question.

“Judging by the layout of damage I would wager a jump drive failure while they were in transit.” He pointed to the deep gouges that ran along the hull of the vessel. “The engines overloaded and traveled faster than the vessel was capable of keeping up and as a result the engines dislodged themselves from the ship and pulled several power conduits out along with them like removing veins from a body.”

His second nodded. “The sudden exit from jump transition coupled with unstable power fluctuations would trigger a critical overload of the power core.” She remarked as the pieces finally fell into place. “If that is the case I’m surprised even this much of the ship is left intact.”

“I’ve got a life sign reading.”

The pair turned from their command platform and looked over at the scanning officer. “I’m reading one life pod at coordinates 237-954 by 716-719.”

With a nod from Morris the screens of the command deck shifted to focus on the new location. Drifting amongst the wreckage was indeed a lone life pod, battered but fully intact.

“How many onboard?” Morris asked.

The scanning officer took a few moments to confirm his readings before replying “Only one sir; and they’re human.”

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Hello! If you still got slots for requests, may I ask for some soft vore with Earthspark Bumblebee? Hope that’s okay!

It is absolutely okay anon! Earthspark Bumblebee...whatta guy. Personally, he's one of my favorite Bee incarnations, so I really enjoyed writing this. Thanks for the request! Feedback is always appreciated! :D

I wanted to make the reader androgynous when it comes to the environment Earthspark takes place in for the sake of all of you who are imagining yourselves into the story. Just assume you live on the Malto property alongside Bumblebee to help train the Terrans and kids if you wish.

Warmth In Raindrops

Pairing: Earthspark Bumblebee x Human Reader

Warning: This story contains soft vore. If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, then please do not read this story.

Word Count: 1661

You can’t sleep.

  The thunder outside keeps you awake. With every crashing boom, you feel like there are a million trash cans toppling over outside, ringing painfully and causing your eardrums to ache. You shiver, drawing the covers over your head, your body curled up into a ball as you shrink back against your mattress. Lightning flashes through the window blinds. You feel like you are trapped within a haunted mansion despite being in your own bedroom.

  You can’t sleep like this, and if the storm continues at this ferocity, you won’t be earning a wink all night.

  More thunder. A whimper escapes your lips, and you squeeze your eyelids shut so tightly they hurt. You can feel the fatigue weighing you down, all the way from your bones to your brain. It’s quite pathetic to find yourself in this state. Childhood is long behind you; thunder is not something you should fear anymore. Yet, you’ve never managed to get over that instinctive dislike for loud sounds. And so here you are, with no way to escape the anger from the skies above, forced to tremble before their booming might.

  You don’t want to be alone.

  Slowly, you sit up and push the covers off of you. Each careful step you take through the house is illuminated by the lightning and shaken by the heavy drumming of raindrops. You have to dress yourself for the weather before you go outside. Your coat and boots do little to ward off the deluge, and as soon as you walk out the front door, you are soaked. Anxiety is quickly overcome by frustration. You run for the large red barn that sits a little ways off from the house, mud and water splashing in your wake as you keep your hood over your head. The comforting farm scents of hay and horse bring peace to your agonized mind when you slip through the doors and into the darkness.

  There are no animals, not right now. In the far corner of the barn, you see a hulking mass spread out on its back. It is big; bigger than anything else in the barn, the giant robot who is currently taking up residence here is fast asleep. You peel off your coat and boots, throwing them to the side before tiptoeing over to the black-and-yellow mech. Bumblebee is huge, even when he is laying down like this, but you feel no fear when you approach the recharging bot. He’s proven himself time and time again that he would never hurt you.

“Bee,” you hiss.

Bumblebee snores.

  You sigh. “Bee.” You shake his arm lightly. “Bee, wake up.”

  He snorts and sits up sharply, optics flickering open with a start. “Huh? Wha…?” His gaze lands on you. “Oh. Y/N. What-what time is it?”

  “It’s midnight,” you reply.

  “Midnight?” He stretches his arms over his head and yawns like a big cat, large incisors on full display while blue light momentarily radiates from his mouth. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  You look down at your feet and shrug, mumbling out a halfhearted answer that doesn’t form into proper words. He takes the sight of you in and softens.

  “Can’t sleep?” he whispers.

  You shake your head and hug yourself tightly. Bumblebee smiles sympathetically and rolls onto his side, opening his arms wide. “Come here.”

  You don’t need any more convincing. He laughs softly when you practically fling yourself into him. He curls himself around you, hugging you tight to his chassis. “Clingy tonight, aren’t we?”

  “Mm, shut up.” You slap him lightly. He laughs and coos, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “Cute little one,” he murmurs.

  More thunder causes you to stiffen. He notices and chuffs questioningly. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  You tilt your head up to look at him. The glow of his optics is calm, his expression one of soft concern. It’s a bit embarrassing for you, a grown adult, to admit the answer, but the look he’s giving you silently implores you to trust him. You can tell him anything. He won’t judge.

“The thunder,” you reply.

  Bumblebee blinks. “Is it scaring you?”

  You bite your bottom lip and nod, lowering your head to sheepishly hide your reddening cheeks in your arms. The mech’s voice drops to a whisper. “Hey.” He dips his index digit under your chin and tips your head back up to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I get it, I do.” He rubs his thumb up and down your thigh in a soothing manner and speaks with a honey-sweet tone. “Do you want to go inside?”

  You perk up a little. “You-you mean it?”

  “I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t,” he chuckles. “I know how sensitive your ears are to loud noises, and even though I can be quite…noisy…” He presses his servo over his midsection, and you can hear an eager growl echo up from beneath his plating. “I know you would rather listen to me than the thunder. So c’mon.” He opens his intake, casting you in the cyan glow of his biolights. “You want in?”

  You hesitate, casting an uneasy look into the massive robotic mouth that’s so, so close to you. Warm air that carries the slight scent of gasoline wafts around you, beckoning you forward with hypnotic warmth. You’ve never allowed yourself to be…eaten by a Cybertronian before. You are aware of their capabilities, of how they can swallow a human down into their tank. You wouldn’t be digested. You’d be…warm…

  Bumblebee senses your nervousness and tries to soothe you with low purrs. He bumps his nose against you again. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he murmurs. “You’ll be safe. I promise, I’ll always keep you safe.”

  You inhale shakily. Warmth. Safety. You’ll take both over the thunder. So you sit up and reach your arms forward to carefully press your hands against his tongue.

  It’s soft, squishy. It doesn’t have a fleshy feeling to it, but rather its texture is like silicone, allowing you to sink into it with little resistance. Bumblebee looks down at you with a twinkle in his eye. Slowly, he shifts your hands to the side by curling his tongue up to taste them. The sensation of it rolling underneath your palms causes you to giggle. “T-That tickles.”

  “Does it? Sorry. You just…you taste really good.”

  “I…I do?”

  “Yes.” He presses his tongue up against your palms with more force. “I can definitely see myself craving you.”

  You giggle again. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or disgusted.”

  “Ehh, maybe both.” He laughs. “But I’d prefer the former over the latter.”

  He nudges you forward. You comply and allow him to guide you into his mouth. Climbing over giant teeth, you flop forward, biolight washing over you as you peer down his throat. He lifts his tongue to slide you further in. He’s patient with this; there’s no hunger in the way he draws you in, no sense of urgency or possessiveness. He lets you go at your own pace, and only when you are completely inside does he close his mouth. The sound of the thunder is barely audible now. You nestle in and close your eyes, soaking in the heat, content to remain like this for the rest of the night.

  Bumblebee hums. His tongue rises only a little, and you inch closer to his throat. Though he doesn’t gulp you down, from the way saliva is practically dripping from every surface of his mouth right now, you can tell he desperately wishes to swallow you. Not wanting to torture him any longer, you give him the all clear. “It’s okay, Bee. I’m ready.”

  Another hum is what you get for a response. He gives one last little lick to your face before he swallows.

  It’s a slow journey down. You close your eyes and let his esophagus carry you further into his body. All around you is the sound of his purrs. When you finally do slip into his fuel tank and sink into the thick, squishy cables that close in to hug you close, you feel such an intense level of comfort that it makes you want to beg him to keep you in here forever.

  “Y/N?” Bumblebee whispers for you. “Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

  “Mm.” You make a soft, relaxed noise. “M’ okay, Bee. I can hear you.”

  “Is it alright in there?” he asks. “Are you warm? Can you see?”

  “Bee, trust me, I’m fine. I’m very warm and I feel very happy.” You lay flat on your back and stare up at the tank’s “ceiling.” All around you, his biolights shine. It’s like a light show that feels so good to look at. “I don’t know why we haven’t done this before.”

  “I didn’t think you’d want to do it,” he says. “I haven’t done this with a human in…oh gosh, I want to say years, but it's probably been a decade.” The tank walls squeeze you in one big bear hug…or, bot hug, you think humorously to yourself. “But I’m glad I could do it again with you.”

  You smile and close your eyes. “You are such a sap.”

  “What can I say?” He squeezes you again. “I’m always a sap for you, little one.”

  You murmur incomprehensible noises and turn onto your stomach, squirming with a flustered feeling rising within you as your cheeks turn red. Bumblebee coos and cuddles you, wrapping his arms around his midsection to hold you tightly within. You say nothing else, and yet, you know you don’t have to. He understands. He always does.

  There is no thunder here. Only gurgles and purrs and his sparkbeat. You find yourself slipping off into sleep before you know it. Your rest is deep and undisturbed. It’s safe here. You are safe here. With him surrounding you, protecting you, there is no reason to remain awake.

[tsaomengde]

The Ones Who Found The City

Ursula K. LeGuin's "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" is a classic short story, and obviously I knew of it, but I'd never actually read it until recently. Well, I finally got around to it, and as many timeless classics do, it got stuck in my brain. This story is my - response? homage? sequel? pale imitation? - to it. I suggest you go and read "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" if you haven't. Not because it's actually required reading for this story - I think it stands on its own more or less okay - but because it is a classic for a reason.

---

Initially, no one is quite certain of what they’ve found when the Animus breaches the next manifold layer.  This is in and of itself expected, of course.  Exploring psychspace is by its very nature an unpredictable venture.  Each of the various infinite layers is unique and bizarre in its own way, reflecting the archetypal underpinnings of an entire species present, past, or future across an infinitude of possible realities.  The crew of the Animus, therefore, has seen things so utterly alien and inexplicable that only the rigors of their training and the care put into their psychic warding saved them from insanity.

It is somewhat disappointing, then, to find that this sub-domain is just a city.  Definitely not Terranic, certainly not, but still following the Terranic modality, with no more than a seven-degree quantum drift.

“Towers,” Thromby says into the recorder as they sit at their post at the nose of the Animus’s command center.  “Following the standard skyscrape pattern.  Unclear if they’re domiciles or business centers or both.  Coastal city, bay appears to be oceanic rather than lake.  Pleasing blend of urbanization with natural setting.”  They glance at Vigil.  “Anything on the lifescope?”

Vigil shakes his head.  “Nothing.  It’s empty.  Totally empty.”

“That’s odd,” Katrina speaks up from the helm.  “The city doesn’t show signs of decay or reclamation by nature.”

“Entropy may not work in the usual way in this sub-domain,” Teasha reminds her.  “The city itself could be the natural growth, reclaiming the artificial countryside.  We’ve seen things like that before.”

Thromby feels Katrina’s unconscious bristling at the subtle reminder that she is the newest member of the crew and thus less experienced in the vagaries of psychspace than everyone else.  Next to Vigil, who is only nineteen, she is also the youngest.  “I would expect,” Katrina says, her voice cool, “that in a sub-domain so obviously based on human archetypes, entropy and nature-versus-civilization tropes would function more or less as usual.”

“I’m certain you would,” Teasha replies, her voice equally cool.  “When you’ve been at this as long as me and Thromby, you’ll learn better.”

“Enough of that,” Thromby says before Katrina can reply.  They love Teasha, but she tends to be too harsh on new crewmembers.  A defense mechanism, they know, to insulate her from the all-too-common pain of losing them.  But Katrina has too much to prove.  The clash is natural and to be expected, and even useful at times, but now is not one of them.  “Vigil, get me readings on atmosphere, microbiome, and psychic radiation, if any.  Katrina, pick a spot on the coast and bring us down there.  I want to see if the ocean is actually an ocean or a liminality representation.  Teasha, get the Animus tuning to this sub-domain’s resonance frequency.  I don’t want any dissociation issues.”

The orders are mostly unnecessary, since everyone already knows what they’re about, but they serve their intended purpose, which is to re-focus everyone on the task at hand and redirect their nervous energies, particularly Katrina’s.  Thromby still isn’t sure she’s going to make the cut after this expedition is over, but there’s potential there.  They would be foolish to ignore someone with Katrina’s strength of identity grounding. 

There are plenty of sub-domains out there where it’s useful to be entirely certain of who you are, and not everyone can be.

---

The first day’s worth of exploration yields more questions than answers, which is normal and expected.  Thromby is indeed certain that Katrina’s initial assumption that this is a human-archetypal sub-domain is correct.  Human atmosphere, human shadow- and ontological concepts, Terranic fish in the very-real ocean.  But the iconography is sparse and mostly nonsensical.  It’s clear that the city was able to actually function as a city, but it feels purposeful, designed, in a way that actual cities outside psychspace rarely do.

“It’s a metaphor,” Vigil says as they sit around a campfire on the beach after the first day.

“Well, obviously,” Katrina agrees, and Vigil lights up – both visibly and psychically – at her concordance.  Thromby knows Vigil has been nursing burgeoning feelings for Katrina since she joined them, and has so far seen no need to make anything of it.  “But a metaphor for what?”

“We don’t have enough data,” Vigil replies.  “But I’m certain of it.  We just need to keep exploring.”

Thromby takes a bite of the fish they’ve been roasting over the fire.  It’s a pleasant change of pace to be able to eat something real, instead of the platonic nourishment suggestions dispensed by the Animus.  “Agreed.  I’m curious to see what the point of this place was.  We have five more days before we have to resurface and the expedition has been quite successful already.  I think we can spare the time.  Teasha?”

Taking a bite of her own fish, Teasha purses her lips as she chews.  “I concur, but I’m uneasy.”

Teasha is their psychometry specialist, so this makes all of them sit up a little straighter.  “Are we in danger?” Katrina asks.

“Of course we’re in danger, we’re in psychspace.  But in this particular sub-domain?  Metaphorical danger, as Vigil says.  Ideological or memetic patterning rather than physical.”

Thromby nods.  “I suspected that might be the axis of it, here.  We will need to split up to cover the necessary ground in the time we have left, so everyone stays in contact while exploring.  Mechanical and psychic.  No exceptions.”

None of them are particularly happy with this pronouncement, but they see the wisdom of it.  It’s distracting and somewhat draining to keep a four-way psychic connection going, especially over distance, but their implanted transceivers sometimes don’t function properly, depending on the sub-domain.  Electromagnetism and causality both seem to be standard here, but such things have been known to change in an instant depending on whether the sub-domain is actively malicious or not.

Thromby doesn’t feel any such malice here, though.  That doesn’t mean it isn’t present; such things are often quite good at hiding themselves.  But they’ve been exploring psychspace for seventy-eight years subjective.  They’ve learned to trust their instincts.

---

Two more days of exploration are frustratingly unrevealing.  The city is the size of a proper metropolis, and they know it will be impossible to actually explore any significant percentage of it in only a few days, but Thromby is still irritated by their lack of progress.  They find evidence of cultural signifiers, rituals, and traditions, but again, the iconography is vague and appears opaque to standard Jungian-Jingweian analysis.

Teasha spends the two days on a different investigative track than the rest of them.  “Psychometrically speaking the city is remarkably healthy,” she said on the morning of their second day.  “Most locations, metaphorical or otherwise, bear the echoes of trauma or strife, but this place seems to have been almost entirely peaceful.  Totally voluntary anarcho-communism or ordnung-socialism, perhaps, without the usual markers of systemic violence inherent to capitalistic or fascistic systems.  But there’s a thread somewhere that I keep detecting the edges of.”

“A thread of what?” Thromby asked.

“Pain, of course.”

It is on the evening of their third day in the city that Teasha calls them to her.  She uses their transceiver link rather than a psychic summons.  “To avoid contamination,” she explains.  “I’ve found the source of the thread.  Double your usual wardings and enter seclusive patterning before you come inside.”

Thromby does so, of course, though they dislike cutting themselves off from their extrasensory perception.  It feels like trying to see with only one eye.  When they arrive at Teasha’s location, however, they immediately understand why she insisted on it.  The possibility of psychic contamination here is very high.

“What is this?” Katrina asks, holding her nose in disgust.

“The point of the metaphor, of course,” Teasha replies.  She indicates the filthy cellar in which they’ve found themselves, the only part of the city so far that has seemed actively decrepit.  “I guarantee you that even if we spent the rest of our lives exploring this city we would find only this one place showing any signs of entropy.”

The cellar stinks of excrement, a combination of ammonia and fetid shit, despite the physical processes creating such smells having terminated long ago.  The floor is dirt.  There are no windows.  In one corner there are two mops, their heads stiff with drying waste, and a bucket, the metal bands around its circumference orange with rust.

“They concentrated all of the city’s entropy into a single space?” Vigil asks.

“Not entropy,” Teasha tells him.  “Cruelty.”

Katrina gapes, her hand falling away from her nose for a moment.  “Come again?”

“Something lived here,” Teasha explains to her.  “Or, more precisely, was forced to live here.  It functioned as a psychic magnet, of sorts.  The functioning of the city relied entirely upon its imprisonment and use as a scapegoat.”

“What was it?” Vigil asks.

“One of the innocence-sacrifice archetypes.  An animal or a child.  I suspect a child; an animal can feel pain and misery, certainly, but it doesn’t conceive of injustice in the same way a child does.”

Thromby feels their stomach turn a little.  “Ah.  I see.”

“See what?” Katrina demands.

“The point of the metaphor indeed,” Thromby replies.  “This entire city and all its inhabitants, predicated on the suffering on a child.  It’s a morality construct, and a good one, too.”

“A good one?” Vigil asks.  “It’s grotesque.”

“Your deontological leanings are showing,” Katrina tells him.  “From a utilitarian perspective it’s perfect.  Nothing exists without imposing an energy burden on the system in which it exists.  Even the nourishment suggestions the Animus feeds us in liminal space between manifolds is distilled from universal krill.  But this?  The concentration of all of a society’s utility burden onto a single individual.  The ultimate maximization principle.”

“And your teleological leanings are showing,” Teasha sniffs.  “You’re missing the point of the metaphor entirely, Katrina.  It isn’t about utility.  It’s about cruelty.  The cruelty is the point.”

Katrina’s nostrils flare and Thromby cuts in before she can start really arguing.  “Enough,” they say.  “A conflict here in this space could be dangerous.  We’re at the focus of the sub-domain and things have a way of rippling.  We’ve discovered the point of the metaphor, so we can go back to the Animus and leave in the morning.”

Both Katrina and Teasha look ready to argue the point with them, but then they master themselves and both nod.

“Do we have to wait until morning?” Vigil asks, looking around the cellar in transparent disgust.  “I would prefer to leave sooner rather than later.”

“You know the rules,” Thromby replies.  “We don’t transit without everyone being rested.  A tired mind is a vulnerable mind.”

Reluctantly, Vigil nods, too.  The four of them walk away from the cellar, their thoughts opaque to one another.

---

Thromby is jolted out of sleep by Teasha screaming.

They sit bolt upright and look down at Teasha in the bed next to them.  She is clutching at her head, shaking, writhing beneath the sheets.  “Teasha!” Thromby snaps.  “Focus!  Center yourself!”  They grab her by the wrists and pry her hands from her face; her nails are leaving bloody marks in her skin.

“Too much, it’s too much!” she shrieks.  “I’m lost!”

Thromby forces their way into her mind.  She previously gave them her consent for this, knowing that it might be necessary in a moment like this one.  What they see there –

“Aquinas,” they say aloud.  The implants in Teasha’s cochlear nerves pick up on the trigger word and activate, sending the kill-signal to other implants deeper within her brain.  She stops screaming and slumps, unconscious, temporarily brain-dead.  When Thromby says the word again she will be switched back on, but for the moment she is safe from the psychic contamination that was attacking her along her psychometric vector.

Which, of course, means that Thromby has to deal with this issue alone.

They dress quickly and exit the Animus into a beautiful summer day.  Pennants and banners wave atop the rigging of ships in the harbor, bells sound from the city, and people, so many people, cavort and revel on the beach, in the waves, in the streets.  There is laughter, merriment, the intoxicating psychic swell of happiness and excitement.  Thromby threads their way through the crowds in the streets – mothers carrying their infants, children running through the streets in elaborate games of some variation of Terran tag, huge parades of horse-drawn carts with animalistic balloon totems floating in the air above them.  Vendors call out to Thromby, offering delicious food, intricately made jewelry, amazing clockwork-mechanical toys, sensory-enhancing drugs, and a thousand other variegated temptations.  Street musicians play upon cunningly crafted instruments – strings, pipes, percussion, keys – and revelers cavort to the tunes.

Thromby can feel the bright sparks of all of these people in their mind.  These are real, thinking, feeling beings.  They belong to the metaphor, certainly, but Thromby could speak to them, touch them, verify their self-consciousness and interiority, even invite them to come and join them onboard the Animus and explore psychspace.  They could bring them up into the real, return home with them, have a life with them.  That is how it has to be, of course.  Thromby knows they themself may belong to a different metaphor of a different order, after all.  The real is only real because enough people agree it is.

But they do none of these things.  They just walk, stolidly, back to where they know they have to go.

Katrina is waiting for them outside the cellar, barring the way in.  Thromby has their wards up at triple strength and has been in seclusive patterning since before leaving the Animus, but they don’t need to be psychic to read her mind.  Everything she is feeling and thinking is there in plain sight – the proud and defiant way her chin is thrust out, the blaze in her eyes, the way she has her arms crossed and feet at shoulder width.  She is ready to fight.

“Let me through,” Thromby says without preamble.

“No.”

Well, that’s their respective positions, Thromby thinks, articulated clearly and easily enough.  “Why not?” they ask.

“Vigil consented.”

“Vigil is in love with you and you know as well as I do that consent is a matter of framing,” Thromby snaps.  “Move.”

“No.  I explained everything to him and he consented.  It has nothing to do with whatever feelings he might have for me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, but fine.  For the sake of argument, tell me how you explained it.”

Katrina hesitates, and Thromby can tell she wasn’t expecting them to actually offer her a chance to proselytize.  “The point of the metaphor is that no matter how great and beautiful the society, if it’s predicated on cruelty, it’s unjust,” she says.  “Deontological thinking, obviously, but cruelty is by definition nonconsensual.  I explained to Vigil that if he allowed it, we could collaboratively put blocks in his mind, purposefully regress him to a childlike mental state, and put him in the cellar to suffer for a specific length of time.  Then we can pull him back out, remove the blocks, and even erase the memories of the trauma.  The child-Vigil won’t, can’t, consent, but it also won’t exist for more than a day, and pragmatically speaking never will have.”

Thromby massages their temples.  “Congratulations.  Once again, you have missed the point of the metaphor.”

“Damnit, Thromby, I’m not a child!  I have the same training and grounding in theory that you and Teasha do.  Everything I’m doing is teleologically sound, and Vigil agreed that with the steps we’re taking –”

“You’re trying to outsmart it,” Thromby cuts her off.  “That’s how I know you’ve missed the point.  You can’t outsmart this, Katrina.  There is no perfect set of circumstances you can construct to get around the simple fact that this city functions, exists, because of deliberate and terrible cruelty.  That’s the entire point of it, just like Teasha said.  Teasha, who, by the way, is currently in a coma.  I had to put her into it to keep Vigil’s misery from damaging her.”

“It’s a thought experiment,” she argues, obviously not addressing the point about Teasha because she knows she won’t win that argument.  “There’s always a correct answer for them.  The trolley, the Gettier, the –”

“It’s about fucking sin,” Thromby sighs.

“Are you joking right now?  You’re going back to the religious well?”

“Yes, because that’s what’s happening right now.  The city is a sin, Katrina.  The excesses of its beauty, its wonder, its perfection, are obscene precisely because of how and why they function.  It’s rooted in the ideology of disgust and taint.  Utility, teleology, all of these justifications and rationalizations exist and have their use, but at the end of the day, answer me one question: will you trade places with Vigil?”

Katrina hesitates.

It’s only a bare moment, less than a second, even, but it’s there.  And Thromby sees it, and Katrina sees it.

“Yes,” she says, finally.

“I knew that would be your answer.  But you know that the answer doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Katrina lowers her head.  “No.”

“You know why you hesitated.”

“Yes.”  She looks back up at them.  “But – there’s no such thing as absolute morality, any more than there’s a single objective reality.”

“Of course there isn’t.  And yet, you hesitated.”

They just lock eyes for a few seconds.  Then she lowers her gaze again.  “And yet, I did.”

Thromby steps past her and opens the cellar.

[cutekittenlady]

I think Earthspark Drift would actually be bad with not just the Terrans but kids in general.

WAIT!

Before you reply and tear me to shreds let me explain myself! THEN throw me on pyre!

Drift would be bad with kids in general... AT FIRST. Drift is totally a guy who overcompensates socially in a subconcious effort to make up for his past as a decpeticon. This leads to him trying waaaaay too hard with the Terrans and other children in general. To the point of inadvertantly being condescending.

I mean between being a little socially stunted, the fact Cybertronians havent really had "kids" around for millions of years, and the fact that other socially responsible "adults" are unlikely to trust him with kids; Drift is at a real disadvantage here.

However, I think that over time he could manage to figure out how to properly interact with "younger minds" and make up for his previous pitfalls.

It helps that I imagine Ratchet being the kids equivalent grumpy grandpa/uncle. He's a grouch but in a lot of media theres a kind and gentle soul under that metal exterior that as hard as Ratchet tries, just refuses to fully rust out, and the kids notice it pretty fast. And Ratchet is close with Drift which gives him plenty of tries at learning how to behave around them.

Hes still not the cool adult. That's obviously rodimus,