the shit train just keeps rolling

[sparkwhisperer]

Who: Tarn and 'Friends'
What: post-'execution' drama
When: immediately after Tarn's shitty life is spared
Where: D-con base/ Medibay
Warnings: Tarn yells.



Starters inside

Comments

[arnhaid]

"If he does..." he mutters, firmly, just loud enough for only Ratchet to hear. "Then we're gonna beat him harder. 'Till he gets it through his stupid mask no one messes with this place."

He doesn't raise his voice. Doesn't make a sudden move or anything. He just keeps trailing his fingers along the other's plating. Reassuring. Promising. It's okay, he's going to stay here. This won't happen again.

"Hey, I'm impressed," he says, with a little smirk. "Wouldn't say it was fun, you're not that kind of bot. But..." And his voice lowers even further, all but whispering. "You are pretty impressive."

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet huffs, looking completely thrown, and elbows at Ironhide a little.

"Now you're just being ridiculous," he grouses, shaking his head and settling in again, rubbing a hand over his face.

[arnhaid]

"Nope, serious."

Because hey, cranky complaints are better than what he got over the comms. This sounds more like Ratchet. Way more like him.

"Completely."

[kidstoday]

Chronolinguistics is unfortunately not a language that Galvatron understands. His smile falters as the mech takes his hand, and while he somewhat gets that Tarn is trying to communicate by this awkward tapping and rubbing of fingers, it's lost on Galvatron.

"What are you doing?" he laughs after a moment.

With a scoffing sound, he reaches for his head with a spare hand, snapping open a cranial panel, and then begins unspooling a cable.

"Connect with me. Share your thoughts."

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn hesitates. If he thought that chronolinguistics was too intimate, letting Galvatron hardline into him, giving him access to his emotions and memories and thoughts, brought it to a whole new level. There was no editing this way. no way to pick and choose what to say, or how to word it. He’s vulnerable.

But, he can’t say no, either. Tarn's fingers shake slightly as he reaches to pop his own panel, connecting Galvatron’s cable to his port.

The presence of another consciousness against his own is jarring; uncomfortable like an itch in his processor that he can’t scratch. He tries to ignore it to get back to to topic at hand.

I was asking how you would like me to thank you.

[kidstoday]

Galvatron's mind is clear from deceptions, which is exactly why he doesn't feel this. The brush of consciousness against his own was only unpleasant when it was unconsensual; this was something he was far more used to, and while he was far from skilled in mind domination, his presence was still something hard and strong.

Just from this initial connection, Tarn could probably discern a number of things about Galvatron. For one, he didn't trust him at all. Digging deeper would find that he simply didn't trust anyone as allegiances were fragile if interests and power waned, and he's lived far too long to expect an ally to be forever. Other more prominent thoughts are his thirst for conquest, that Cybertronians were superior to others and that their race needed to embrace it.

Essentially, no surprises.

The warlord rumbles with a chuckle, his hands finding Tarn's neck, skirting over the wound. He does not shy away from the sight of bloodshed.

What do you have to give me? Your loyalty? Your body? That is what I desire.

[sparkwhisperer]

Anxiety twists wildly in Tarn’s tanks even as he desperately tries to quash it. Galvatron will think him weak. But, the closeness of their minds is uncomfortable, and foreign, and too much all at once. The strong presence is unyeilding against his own. He is forced to wear his insecurity as a shameful badge.

Tarn tries his best to cover it with submission.

You’ll have it. All of it.

The subtle tones of mistrust is met with Tarn's unyielding loyalty. He will give his life for the cause; for Galvatron. He clicks in pleasure as his new Master's fingers glide over his throat. The sting of pain is soothed by the warmth of physical contact. Tarn presses forward to maximize that feeling. He wants to submit. He wants to be claimed. But, most of all, after this entire fiasco, he wants to be wanted.