shitposting rave 5: discount rejects from every genre

I MEAN, BEING A BIOLOGICAL CURIOSITY IS NOTHING NEW TO ME!

BUT I'M NOT AN INSECTFORMER. JUST INSECT. MY FLESH CYLINDER IS JUST THAT--FLESH. I DON'T DO ANY OF THAT SHAPE-CHANGING SHIT, UNLESS YOU WANT TO COUNT PUPATION?? BUT I CAN'T JUST SWITCH *BACK* TO BEING A GRUB. THE EXTRA LEGS FELL OFF, THEY'RE GONE FOREVER INTO THE MURKY FOG OF WIGGLERHOOD. I MIGHT HAVE EATEN THEM, HONESTLY

 

I'm like what sometimes?
[grouchy grumbly old man clearly hasn't slept in a while. his shoulders even make a creaking sound when he moves.]

 

-Pillage absorbs this and chitters understandingly, then nods-
Did they taste good?

Grumpy and shouty! -Pillage grins, then heads over to pat solicitously at him-

 

What? Frag off, I'm a delight.
[he wraps Pillage in a biiiiig bear hug in revenge. Snuggle time now.]

 

-Pillage giggles and snuggles up tight- You should ask the tiny scouts if they think y'r a delight!

 

The scouts don't know what's good for them. They never take their additives because they think they'll always be young and reckless.

 

So you should at 'em so they swear never t'be like you. -he nuzzles him- Are your shoulder joints all right? Have you been stretching like you should?

 

The stretches are annoying, I can't pause whatever I'm doing every half shift to do some cyberninja nonsense.

 

-Pillage scrabbles up to poke and peer at Beacon's shoulder, perching slightly incongruously on the bumper that makes up Beacon's chest- If you don't stretch they'll seize up!

 

They won't I know this because I'm the next best thing to a medic here right now.
[He let's Pillage poke despite being the very definition of exasperation made metal]

 

I mean, I could help out on the medic thing.... [Is he being a little bit sarcastic? Potentially. Or he might just tease a little]

 

-Pillage uses one hand to poke Beacon's cheek while the other three are busy still petting and poking at his shoulder, dipping under the plates to massage- You're all stiff!

Tell him he needs t'do his stretches.

 

Traitor. Decepticon. Flyers, every single time, I swear. Got yerself an itch in your wings to tweak my doors, or something.
[grumblegrumblegrumpgrump]

I'm not!

 

I'm a medic too. Do your stretches. [Switch. Switch you were a neurosurgeon, that's not applicable.]

 

A fussy busybody is what you are. Is everyone conspiring against me now?

 

You are right, he very much should, it is important to keep from stress induced damage to the backstruts.

Well i have to agree with your... friend? You do look a little stiff in the cables and I could provide door tweaks if desired, I am very good at modding things. Or taking a few dinks out of your plating [Is he applying a critical eye to Beacon? Yep yep he is and there's certainly a new for at least a new coat of paints]

 

[dave fingerguns, and glances over at the Do Your Stretches Brigade]

i see what you mean

 

Patients need constant conspiring against, that is just a fact of life. Especially patients who won't listen.

 

Yes. I'm dead, it's not like I have anything better to do than bother people.

 

Listen t'the medics, they know you feel better if you stretch! -tweaks a wire somewhere in Beacon's shoulder joint that's got caught up so it's free again-

-one of his optics flicks off and on again in the robot equivalent of a wink-