Jun 17, 2023
you guys can read my cannibalism poem... if you wanted...
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you guys can read my cannibalism poem... if you wanted...
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hey yknow that tatsumayo savior complex Thing i said i was going to write for halloween. yeah well i finally posted it
deathnwine
His eyes moved from constellation to constellation as he stared up at the night sky. It was chilly out, but that wasn't going to stop him from laying in the grass -- in nothing but a long-sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans -- out behind his house. Or was it a mansion? Edmund leaned his head back to look back at the building, sizing it up. He didn't know the proper name for it, exactly, but it was big. A lot of the time, it may as well have been just his. Like tonight. His father wasn't home, and he wouldn't be for a couple of days. Needless to say, Rory's presence was highly appreciated.
Speaking of Rory, Edmund looked over at him. The other boy was beside him, looking as absorbed in what he was doing as ever. He almost hated to disturb him. Sitting up, Edmund poked him in the chest before gesturing to the house with a nod of his head. It was an unspoken question: wanna go inside or no?
The sound of a Reving engine echoed across the normally unbeaten trails and clifffaces of the lower levels of Cybertron. The purr emanating from a certain Cherry Red Aston martin’s engine evident of the owners enjoyment as the vehicle pushed itself to drift and curve around otherwise dangerous debris. “It may not be the racetracks of Iacon but it certainly presents its own challenges” the Newly officiated Autobot Doctor thought as he raced to relieve some stress and reignite his passion for speed. Truth be told the Doctor had chosen his current path for no more reason then to sneek off and escape the burdens of his new positions back at Autobot HQ… Not to mention certain younger pestering Elite gardsmechs and Explosive wrecker who constantly kept him on his toes. Switching off his tracking beakon honestly had been a piece of OilCake for the former Sneeky Decepticon. If they wanted to find him this would be the last place they expect him to go and thats just how Knockout liked it, a little time to Breath… Just His thoughts, the wind in his grill and the grip of his tires on the road! Sure He knew they panic and think he deserted them like they always assumed but he would come rolling back like he always did with a smirk and a flourish… hopefully before Ultra Magnus even noticed he was gone… As the saying went tho… Act now, ask for forgiveness later. He needed this whatever lame punishment might come of it. He would deal with that later.
The stress of being one of the few medicaly trained in a group mornons constantly putting themselves in harms way under the reconstruction efforts could wear on any mech… Worse yet he was begging to understand Ratchet… of all mechs… Knockout was far from used to those pressures… The way he saw it it couldn’t hurt to get out and stretch his tires now and again to burn off his frustrations and Stress and relive a few of his old glory days. As he swerved around yet more rubble Knockout’s Audios picked up something near by?
Normally he would not care but way out here in the middle of nowhere amongst rubble hearing a voice unnerved the Red Doctor. he slowed cautiously to a stop and Transformed. He paused suddenly when he heard a clear voice and darted for cover… Wait a minute… That Screechy voice sounded familiar? Soon a figure emerged from a dilapidated building of some sorts and to his shock…
Knockout recognized immediately just who had appeared.
Starscream was sure he recognized that engine note, and it was almost too much to hope for. He didn’t mean to call out, and he inwardly rebuked himself for being so stupid, for being so painfully desperate. He hated that. And he hated that he even wanted to see Knockout, assuming that was Knockout and his mind wasn’t playing tricks.
He stopped himself from crying out, this time from pain, as he transformed his less damaged arm into a null ray, in case he was wrong. Or in case he was right. He had no idea where he stood anymore.
After waiting for the power levels in the weapon to stabilize, he made his way out of the ruins, trying not to look like he was limping despite one leg being welded together out of scrap metal to keep it from collapsing.  He fanned the air cautiously with his remaining wing, ignoring the pain that shot through what was left of the other one. No one was there, but a grounder couldn’t have gone far. He narrowed his eyes and looked over the rubble.
read pluto and cry with me about robots
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