Work Text:
To: TC602-8204
Message draft: Unnamed
CHRONOMARK 30:28:00:12
hi babe
so like i said in my last comm Nova Storm got SUUUUUPER bitchy yesterday when i told her she couldn’t hold a diode to Acid’s top speed so im gonna need you to clock theirs and get back to me when you can so i can tell her she’s crazy that she won’t even give her own trinemate teh win here. cuz like she’s the one that flew wth them not me but even I know nova’s slower’n a no-wheeler bike
the upd8 to that is shes withholding the black paint until i apologize. like the slag temp paint, yeaa, but still this is the stuff that goes on my face and i gotta keep pretty if im stuck on wet suckball #302837 while megatron gets 1) whatever the Pit he needs to get out of his systems out of his systems 2) his backstrut blown out. i am NOYTTTT going to be less put together than fraggin FRENZYYYY. plus ever since the gr8 starscream escape hes been letting me leave black paint marks on him which is cute. i dare say he missed me!! so im gonna take advantage of tbat as much as i can obviii
anyways point is nova’s dumb as fuckkkkkk and is trying to hide the container. like WHOOO do you think i am. she keeps forgotting theres literally nothing anyone can keep out of my hands|
Skywarp paused the pouring out of glyphs and bit her glossa. The cursor blinked at her in the soft purple of her HUD’s UI inquisitively.
How are you going to finish this falsehood?, it asked.
theres literally nothing anyone can keep out of my hands for long|
She sent it in a hurried rush of a command, before it felt any more like an unfounded boast.
Error: comm address TC602-8204 is either out of range or address’s receiving capacity has been disabled or deactivated. Message saved into drafts as Unnamed (5672).
Skywarp minimized her commsuite and raised her chin, in-venting anxiously.
“Tell me you saw the Allspark dematerialize,” she pleaded upwards, to where Starscream was looking at her helm pillowed on his thigh plating. “Like, you saw it go through the bridge. Like you know Strika got it and Cybertron’s alright. Like...”
Starscream’s jaw worked with every glyph she spoke. “You know I can’t,” he said softly. Skywarp shut her optics.
“For how much you love lying, you never do it when I need you to,” she groaned.
“I've said it before, I will repeat it: he’s fine,” Starscream said assertively. “Either way, he’s alright. Strika’s smart enough to know when the fight’s well and truly lost, and if she isn’t, he is. There is no possible ending where Thundercracker is… one of those hateful little flowers on the monument.”
Skywarp ex-vented slowly. “That’s the stuff,” she said quietly, and turned her face into his lap.
Starscream huffed in annoyance, but a hand came down from the back of the seat to rest on her finials. She let the motion, with all its chords of familiarity, settle her — just a little.
She pulsed a gentle apology at Starscream through the sparkbond, and in response he rubbed his thumb against the line of her audial. There the two of them laid.
To: TC602-8204
Message draft: Unnamed
CHRONOMARK 30:28:02:14
hi babe|