38, 55, 94, 99

38. Have you ever liked someone you didn’t expect to?

Well, that depends on the exact meaning. I do not interface with people if I do not expect to thoroughly enjoy it, and I am almost never attracted to people. I approach and proposition those who are aesthetically pleasing, or those who I am fond of and who seem likely to be skilled in the berth.

I say “almost never” because of Soundwave. He is honestly terrifying, and I fully expect that he could take me apart if the need came, but… oh dear. He is… something. So. I did not expect to be at all interested in him, or physically interested in anyone, but oh my.

55. Share a relationship story.

I do not tend towards long-term relationships, but I did spend some time in the company of a minibot gestalt. Yes, minibots. And, yes, they did end up roughly the size of a “regular” mech when assembled.

That was not a terribly sexually active relationship, truthfully. They were hiding from Functionalist scientists who wanted to take them apart and study them, I was hiding from a different batch of scientists and a number of Senate goons sent to kill me. We spent most of our time being quiet and sneaking about, and physical affection was usually confined to grooming.

When we did interface, though, it was… interesting. They had a fondness for restraining (willing) mechs in order to implement sounding rods. Which is where I learned how to do that. And a few things, because dear Primus they were inventive.

94. Does faction matter? Would you date someone of a different faction?

Faction does not matter to me. Ideals matter for anything resembling a long-term relationship, sexual or not. If all I want is a quick frag, all I look for is someone who shares my opinions on torture and assault, anything else is moot. I did tend to avoid the more devout Autobots for quite some time, though, as I was technically a fugitive.

99. Would you rather have a one-night-stand or a long relationship?

Considering my low libido and solitary nature, I tend to much prefer one-night-stands. I am not prone to longer relationships of any sort, and I find that partners looking for long-term sexual relationships generally want to interface more than I will enjoy. The sort of relationship I tend to look for is one where I am free to drift in and out as I please without any other participants feeling abandoned or slighted- a sort of relationship hard to form with any group other than one with many interpersonal relationships already formed.

♡

Once again, warm berth in a safe place means he is very much out. Especially since he is warm and snuggled up into a heap of blankets.

And… a heap of things that… are not blankets???

Wait. Okay, this thing is warm and fairly pleasant, but… large. Hello?

Vaguely concerned, Gravescratch lifts his helm slightly and opens his optics. Or… some of them. Sort of. He can’t quite fix his optics on anything in particular, unfortunately. Or his antennae. His alarm (which can barely even be called ‘alarm’) isn’t anywhere near enough to force the sensory processing portions of his processor to online enough to comprehend the data coming from his assorted network of optics and antennae.

So he pushes himself up with one arm, chirps a little “???” noise at whoever this is in a request for the hopefully friendly being in his berth to please identify themselves, and pushes his face into whatever part of them is closest to him. And, upon locating exactly where some part of this person is, he sticks out most of his tongue and licks them.

Mm. They taste rather nice, actually.

And… definitely strong.

Who is this?

That’s basically his only thought- who are you??? with an undercurrent of how did you get into my berth or is this even my berth??? on the back-burner for now.

Wait.

He’s… fairly sure there are multiple life-signs here.

So he tries to ask who the Pit this is.

It comes out as confused whining noises more suited to a newly woken puppy.

[?]

The monitor is interesting, and large enough to be useful, but it’s clearly going to need an adapter and probably a few new wires. Gravescratch picks at the plastic trim for a moment, debating whether or not it might be edible, then sets it aside for later dissection. Truthfully, it is all edible, the question is more “is this thing worth more as parts than as nutrients” than “can I eat this”.

He doesn’t recognize the bit of plant life, but it’s large enough to be tangible and isn’t actively corroding his servo as he holds it, so of course it’s a snack now. And it’s actually dense enough to crunch as he bites into it, which is great. Even if it is a bit bitter.

The box is much too fragile to hold anything and isn’t thick enough to be useful as padding, so Gravescratch pulls it apart into a few pieces, turns them over a couple of times to feel the textures, and then chomps on them. They taste a bit like wood, but much softer. It’s actually a neat texture.

One of the three tiny bits of stuff is used in construction, another is a ring of keys clearly intended for tiny locks, and the third is something jangly. They’re all too small to provide any tangible taste or texture if he eats them, so they get tossed into the jar of tiny parts that are also more or less useless but might be meltable once he’s collected enough.

Now, is the crate itself edible?

(the answer is yes. The answer is always yes.)